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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983411">Couldn't Say It To Myself</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/INTPSlytherin_reylove97/pseuds/INTPSlytherin_reylove97'>INTPSlytherin_reylove97</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Say It [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anthony Needs a Chill Pill, Art Teacher Kate, Awkward Romance, Banter, Chaotic Bridgertons, Drunk Dialing, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Dysfunctional Family, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fear of Death, Fluff, Gen, Humor, I watched the series and have read half the books out of order nobody hate me, Idiots in Love, If You Know Bridgerton You Should Know Who It Is, Modern Era, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Recreational Drug Use, Summer Vacation, THOUGH I PROMISE IT IS NOTHING BAD, Yes This is about Kate and Anthony but also ALL THE BRIDGERTONS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:08:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>248,628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983411</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/INTPSlytherin_reylove97/pseuds/INTPSlytherin_reylove97</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Anthony began dating Edwina, he knew she’d fit the bill. </p><p>Attractive, intelligent, and well-mannered. A fine wife in the making. Perfect to placid his family and perhaps stable enough to quiet the gossip and Lady Whistledown’s ever active twitter. </p><p>When the annual Bridgerton summer holiday rolled around, he had every intention of proposing to Edwina.</p><p>He just did not expect her to bring along her meddlesome sister, Kate.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anthony &amp; Benedict &amp; Colin &amp; Daphne &amp; Eloise &amp; Francesca &amp; Gregory &amp; Hyacinth Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sharma, Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Basset, Edmund Bridgerton/Violet Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Say It [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2216094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1547</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue ~ Elusive Sister Kate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you are like me, you binged Bridgerton, then read some of the books, and fell HARD for Anthony and Kate in 'The Viscount Who Loved Me'. I mean, enemies to lovers at its finest, am I right?</p><p>Anyways, this story idea has been bouncing around in my head for awhile and I finally dove in and started writing it to sedate me until season 2 drops.</p><p>Forewarning, I have not read all the books, just a few and I am not British in the slightest; I have just watched coups amounts of British television in my life.</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“A summer holiday?” Edwina was delighted at the suggestion. An expected response.</p><p> </p><p>“The annual summer holiday,” Anthony felt the need to correct. It wasn’t any old holiday, but one his family had part taken for decades. “My family gathers for the month of July, before my siblings resume their respective studies.” Only Hyacinth and Gregory were still attending their respective boarding schools while Eloise and Francesca were at university. However if the text chain Eloise had set up between the eight of them were to be trusted (on most accounts it wasn’t), it sounded as though Colin was indeed considering to return to his studies. “We stay at the family country home, Aubrey Hall.”</p><p> </p><p>He and Edwina were celebrating their three month anniversary. Location: a little Italian bistro they had their third date—Anthony was a firm believer in little patterns and unspoken traditions, the date location fitting. Three months into a steady relationship seemed a good a time as any to mention his impending summer holiday, considering he’d be leaving a few weeks’ time.</p><p> </p><p>“How nice.” Edwina smiled. A sweet, pleasant smile to charm anyone in her vicinity. Well, anyone except Anthony himself, but this was not common knowledge. She picked up her glass of wine, taking a small sip, before returning to her pea soup. “I’d imagine it is one your family looks forward to, yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Looking forward is one way to put it.” While the Bridgerton clan adored each other, they each had a particular way to get under each other’s skin. “It is the only time of year we are all together, all nine of us,” he paused, remembering Daphne’s recent nuptials. If two years could still be considered recent. “I mean ten.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you not get together for the winter holidays?”</p><p> </p><p>“We try,” Anthony confessed, “but we often have our own lives to contend with. This will be the first time I’ll see many of them in person this year.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin with his travels. Benedict with his art and parties and friends. Daphne with her busy husband and her blossoming career. Eloise working on her Master’s. And Francesca coming up with one excuse after another for the reason she could not attend some family function or another (it was always a boy—<em>always</em>). They all had some responsibilities and dalliances to be consumed with, rarely did all eight of them end up in the same room at the same time—one or two were always missing.</p><p> </p><p>Except for summer holiday.</p><p> </p><p>Summer holiday needed to be reserved for family and strictly family. For their mother’s sake and sanity.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s sweet your family devotes this time for each other then,” Edwina praised, “though I cannot imagine not seeing my sister for so many months. Kate would kill me if we missed our usual Sunday brunches.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony bit the inside of cheek.</p><p> </p><p>Ah yes, <em>Kate</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The ever mentioned, never seen sister, <em>Kate</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He was lucky they made it to the appetizers before Edwina inevitably mentioned her elder sister, Kate. Not that he could complain too much; he too spoke often about his family. He kept in contact with all of them, be it scheduled phone calls, emails, video calls, or the vague and disgruntled text message. Strict tabs on all of them. It was his duty as their elder brother and, for many of them, father figure. It was only natural to bring them up in conversation.</p><p> </p><p>But it felt like Kate was a niggling thorn in his side and he never even met the woman!</p><p> </p><p>Edwina spoke to her sister daily. They went out for brunches and spent weekends together with their mother. She’d on more than one occasion cancelled plans with him because “Kate surprised me with tickets to the cinema!” or “Kate needed an extra hand with one of her art projects,” or “Kate baked my favorite sponge, how could I say no?” And then there was their impromptu sleepovers—the sisters did not live together, however the amount of time they appeared to spend at each other’s flats seemed to contradict this.</p><p> </p><p>If Anthony didn’t know any better, he’d say Kate Sharma-Sheffield was purposely making sure he and Edwina never had their own ‘little sleepover’ due to the sheer amount of plans these two sisters seemed to have together at all waking hours of the day.</p><p> </p><p>It also didn’t help he was a busy man. After all it was not his fault he was the eldest Bridgerton, the heir and active president of Bridgerton Media Publications. His family’s legacy was on the line each and every day, and his work needed to reflect his dedication to the company.</p><p> </p><p>So matters such as a steady girlfriend (one who he planned to one day marry seeing as she was agreeable and kind and well-enough for him) seemed to travel at snail’s pace despite his best efforts.</p><p> </p><p>Deciding to throw her a bone (because it was honestly better to do it now and get it out of the way than end up in a strange conversation about Kate’s corgi when they’d been talking about anything but corgis or Kate) Anthony asked, “How is dear Kate?”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina lit up like a Christmas tree. “Kate is fantastic! Her students did superbly in their watercolor unit. Which is no surprise since Kate’s favorite medium is—”</p><p> </p><p>“Watercolors,” Anthony deadpanned.</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly!” Edwina beamed. “I’m surprised you remembered.”</p><p> </p><p>How could he not? Half of their second date was Edwina scrolling through her phone, showing her sister’s art work. Most were exquisite watercolor pieces. It took a skilled hand to accomplish such vivid pictures. Not that he’d ever tell the artist that. If he ever had the unfortunate pleasure to meet her, that is.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony found Edwina’s love for her sister admirable. He did.</p><p> </p><p>Just not always convenient.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad she’s doing well,” Anthony said in earnest, “I do hope though she’d be fine with you missing a couple of brunches.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why’d you say that?”</p><p> </p><p>Here was the moment he’d been waiting for. “Edwina, I’d be honored if you would accompany me on summer holiday at my family’s country home this July.”</p><p> </p><p>Her blue eyes twinkled in surprise. “I’d love to, Anthony…”</p><p> </p><p>Why did he sense a ‘but’? No one trailed off without some form of hesitation.</p><p> </p><p>“You’d love to?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she stated, sure of her answer, yet the edge of hesitance was once again not lost on him. “It is just…I am not sure I can run off to the country side for the summer,” she answered meekly.</p><p> </p><p>“But you’ll be done with university,” he reminded her.</p><p> </p><p>He had this planned out. A month together in the country side would more than speed up their relationship, allowing the holiday to be a couple’s retreat of sorts. They get to know each other better, she’d meet the family, and by the time the end of the month rolled around he’d hopefully pop the question.</p><p> </p><p>He only had so much time, only a few shy years away from his thirty-eighth birthday.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I know,” she glanced down to her now cold pea soup, “but you see, I have this internship…”</p><p> </p><p>She continued to go into great detail of her internship, aiding a high profile philosophy scholar in research for a publication. A dream opportunity for her line of work. Anthony had to refrain from wrinkling his nose; philosophy was never his cup of tea. He knew Edwina adored the likes of Plato and Aristotle, but Anthony had not bothered with their writings. He didn’t need to question the universe or his mortality; he already had enough of his own existentialism to last two lifetimes.</p><p> </p><p>“…but that doesn’t mean I cannot pop by for a weekend or two,” she hurriedly explained, “I can take the train. Be in town during the week, be in the country for the weekend. That sounds pleasant to me.”</p><p> </p><p>He wanted Edwina to meet the family. Meet his mother. Bond with his sisters. Get to know his brothers. He needed to see if she was well suited to be a Bridgerton amongst the most stubborn of Bridgertons, himself included.</p><p> </p><p>All three months of dating and Anthony felt like he barely knew the woman sitting across from him.</p><p> </p><p>But he did know she was a perfect fit. A nice girl to settle down with.</p><p> </p><p>That was what his mother wanted. That is what he often assumed his father would have wanted too.</p><p> </p><p>“…and then there is Kate to think about. She’d be beside herself without me. She’s not the most sociable one…”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell Kate she can come along as well.”</p><p> </p><p>The words flew out of his mouth before he had full sense to think over the suggestion.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Edwina paused, a gleeful grin emerging as his invitation finally settled. “You’ll allow Kate to come?”</p><p> </p><p>“If she can.” He had dug his grave, might as well lie in it. “I know she has her own obligations—”</p><p> </p><p>“She’d love to go!” Edwina was already reaching for her mobile, tapping away at the screen, texting Kate no doubt. “Kate has an affinity for the country.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course she does…” Anthony drawled out.</p><p> </p><p>“What was that?” Edwina lifted her head, before dropping it back down to the phone screen, far more concerned with contacting her sister than their dinner.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing,” Anthony assured her, giving her a forced jovial smile, “nothing at all, love.”</p><p> </p><p>“This will be perfect for her,” Edwina continued, buzzing with excitement. “She’ll be off for the summer holidays, no school and all. And she’s been in a bit of a creative rut. I am positive a picturesque country side will do her wonders.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can send you the details and I am sure you’ll relay them to her.” Their waiter appeared, removing their soups and replacing the dishes with entrees.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh I don’t want to play middleman,” Edwina winced, grabbing her own fork and utensil for her pasta dish. “Kate will have her own questions and it would be better if she got them from the main source.”</p><p> </p><p>“But seeing as she is your sister, I thought you’d prefer it.”</p><p> </p><p>“But seeing as she is my sister, I know her and her tendencies,” Edwina chuckled, her own little inside joke to herself lost on him. “I’ll give you her number and you can contact her yourself. It’s about time you two get to know each other. I am after all friends with your sister and brother.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony had to remind himself she meant Eloise and Colin. And friends was a loose term. Eloise was a former classmate—the one who set the match by accident. And Colin had a penchant of dropping into Anthony’s London flat without noticed, barging in on more than one homecooked dinner date and joining their table with little to no invitation.</p><p> </p><p>Both of his siblings had taken a liking to Edwina. As a friend of their own, not so much as a love match for him.</p><p> </p><p>“No offense brother, but she’s too sweet and intelligent for a man-whore like yourself,” Eloise had bluntly put when he informed her he’d gone on more than two successful dates with her former classmate. She, like many of his siblings, were far too aware of his previous wild days. Eloise had once met his old companion Siena when she dropped into his flat—he seriously needed to change his locks since it seemed every Bridgerton had a key to the London flat—when she dropped by for a weekend visit. She had enough verbal ammunition to last ‘til Christmas with <em>that</em> incident. “I honestly do not understand the charm you put over these girls. I pity them.”</p><p> </p><p>And Colin—“I like her. She’s got a funny streak, but I think she’s a little afraid of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you say that?” Anthony grunted, pushing himself to keep up pace with Colin. They’d been running through the nearby park when he unceremoniously brought the subject of Edwina up.</p><p> </p><p>“Because most woman are?” Colin stated plainly, as though it were obvious. “No one says no to a date with a Bridgerton. Least of all the eldest, most eligible bachelor with a hefty inheritance, who <em>also</em> happens to be president of a renowned family publishing company. They’d have to be daft to say ‘no.’”</p><p> </p><p>For some reason this made Anthony a tad insecure about Edwina and nearly every single semi-serious relationship before her.</p><p> </p><p>He liked to believe he was a likeable man. More than likeable. Desirable. At least beyond his Bridgerton name and family legacy.</p><p> </p><p>Women liked him for more than these mere facts…surely?</p><p> </p><p>But he could never know this considering he had always been a Bridgerton and would always be a Bridgerton. A terrible yet wonderful curse.</p><p> </p><p>“I sent you her contact information,” Edwina told him, setting her phone back down and resuming her meal. “I believe you and Kate will get along well. You remind me a lot of her.”</p><p> </p><p>Just what every man wanted to hear; he reminded his girlfriend of her sister.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure we will.”</p><p> </p><p>He lied through his teeth and didn’t regret it an ounce.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And we are off!</p><p>While this story will focus primarily on Anthony/Kate, it will have plenty of other Bridgertons with their own little stories happening as well.</p><p>BTW-The title comes from the Maggie Rogers song "Say It".</p><p>Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A (Lack of) Sibling Correspondence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much to everyone who read the first chapter! I am slowly responding to comments, but please know I appreciated the love and support for the fic :)</p><p>I wasn't planning on posting another chapter so soon, but I thought why not? </p><p>Typos will be fixed later; enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>| @ladywhistledown</p><p><em>Summer is upon us! Do you know what this means, dear moots? </em> <em>👀</em></p><p>
  <em>Holidays abound, it means! Most importantly annual summer holidays for certain notable households of our area…(1/4)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>| @ladywhistledown</p><p>
  <em>Why I mean the Bridgerton family of course. The annual summer holiday at Aubrey Hall where many in town have begun to spot familiar faces amongst the rolling hills (2/4)</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>| @ladywhistledown</p><p>
  <em>Sources say…a certain dominating bachelor (*cough* Anthony Bridgerton *cough*) has his eyes on a pretty young scholar who goes by the name Edwina, &amp; has plans to put a ring on it! After being connected for a few mere months no less! (3/4)</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>\</em> @ladywhistledown</p><p>
  <em>At least this author can only believe this is the reason, as the scholar &amp; her sister have been rumored to be invited for holiday.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>An outsider to the family’s inner circle hasn't been invited for an Aubrey Hall holiday in ages…it makes this author wonder why else such a young lady would be there…. (4/4)</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no and no!”</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Kate!” Edwina followed hot on Kate’s footsteps into her home office-turned-art studio. An easel sat in the corner of the tiny room with old fabric tarp spread out on the floor to prevent any slips. Not that it had saved Kate from spills in the past, a dark spot by the door indicating one mishap of many. “He wants to get to know you!”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony Bridgerton,” Kate ruffled out the paint stained rag she snatched from her laundry and smeared her wet paint brushed into the cloth with far more aggression than necessary, “does <em>not</em> want to get to know me.”</p><p> </p><p>“He invited you personally.” Edwina plopped down on the old, green armchair by the desk. Reaching behind her, she pulled out the fuzzy throw pillow and clutched it to her chest like a little girl. She always acted like this when she wanted something so desperately, Kate spotting the ‘baby sister’ tactic a mile away. “He said ‘tell Kate she can come along too!’”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Kate sighed, head lulling to the side to stare down her sister, “Anthony Bridgerton wants me to go to his bloody country estate—”</p><p> </p><p>“It is a house,” Edwina corrected softly.</p><p> </p><p>“It is an <em>estate</em>,” Kate stressed, tossing her cloth to the ground, “I watched the <em>Architectural Digest</em> video on it. It’s a freaking ginormous estate.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know those things are fake and exaggerated.” Edwina leaned back into the cushions, making herself smaller and her eyes wider. As if her bright blue eyes could get any larger than life—not that Kate disliked her sister’s eyes, she simply loathed when Edwina tried to use them against her. “And he does want you there. He wouldn’t have invited you otherwise.”</p><p> </p><p>“I find that hard to believe,” Kate told her sister plainly. She dabbed her brush into her blue little canister, the oil paint thick on her brush. Oil paint was not her favorite medium, but one she was trying to improve on; if not for herself, then for the sake of her students. “Anthony Bridgerton does not know me.” Edwina opened her mouth to undoubtedly contradict, but Kate continued. “He only knows me as your older sister—a sister he has never bothered to meet in the flesh, may I remind you.” Not that he or Edwina hadn’t tried. She’d been invited to numerous outings with the two; for a lunch, for a coffee, to a party. And each and every time Kate found a reason—maybe rather stupid reasons, like missing Newton, but reasons nonetheless—to wiggle her way out of any outings. Because maybe, <em>just maybe</em>, if Anthony Bridgerton never met her then perhaps his relationship with her dear sister was not as serious as the ever knowing <em>Lady Whistledown</em> liked to make it seem. “No one invites their girlfriend’s family on a summer holiday with his family without ulterior motives.”</p><p> </p><p>“What ulterior motive could Anthony possible have?” Edwina asked innocently enough.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know…” Kate shrugged, nose wrinkling, before finally saying, “marriage? Maybe marriage? Has that ever occurred to you?”</p><p> </p><p>A high pitch squeal of a giggle burst from Edwina, she clutching the pillow for dear life. “You are insane!” She gasped between chortles. “Anthony does <em>not</em> want to marry me. If anything we are just having a fun and a good time with each other.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not what <em>Lady Whistledown</em> says.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you believe everything that twitter fiend says?” Edwina asked, barely catching her breath.</p><p> </p><p>“She has yet to be wrong.” Kate dropped her paint brush into a jar of water. She wasn’t going to get any painting done with this unbearable dilemma. She turned to her sister, lips pursed into a fine line. “Look at Simon Basset and Daphne Bridgerton!”</p><p> </p><p>“But that’s different,” Edwina sighed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly, “they are in love! Anyone with eyes could see it, even when it was splashed all over twitter and the silly society blogs.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you aren’t in love?” Kate asked, sounding far too worried, far too hopeful, and far too weary for someone of twenty-six years old. “With Anthony?”</p><p> </p><p>“How can I fall in love with someone in just three months?” Edwina asked, befuddled by the thought. “I am just seeing where this takes us,” the girl confessed, “it’s nice dating someone who isn’t always on a rush to get to the pub or who lives with bunch of over-grown toddlers. It’s nice to date a real man.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate snorted. “I doubt he is a real man.”</p><p> </p><p>Anyone with eyes and ears knew of Anthony Bridgerton’s reputation. He partied, he slept around, he always had some bombshell on his arm whenever a camera was within the vicinity. Yet somehow he was also the youngest man to ever take over the Bridgerton Media Publications, graduated with high honors from university, and was—if rumors were to be trusted—the most attentive brother on the face of the planet.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony Bridgerton was seemingly a bottle of contradictions, but Kate knew one thing for certain: he was a terrible match for her sweet Edwina.</p><p> </p><p>Kate could never imagine a man like <em>that</em>, with his history, to be Edwina’s (god forbid) husband. Sure, once he turned thirty the partying slowed down to a grinding halt and he was seen less-and-less with different women. It was more common to hear news of the infamous Bridgerton to be out with his younger siblings, almost like a doting father figure, rather than out on the town, looking for his next conquest.</p><p> </p><p>“Now you are being mean,” Edwina admonished. “Anthony <em>is</em> a good man, and someone I think you’d get along great with.” She raised her eyebrows. “If you just gave him the chance.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you want me to give up my summer holiday to give him a chance?” Kate asked, still unconvinced of the idea.</p><p> </p><p>She gave all her time and energy to her students and her art and her family. Summer was one of the rare times of the year Kate could just focus on herself.</p><p> </p><p>Spending a large portion of it with Anthony Bridgerton didn’t sound like ‘focusing on herself.’ It sounded a lot more like making sure Anthony Bridgerton didn’t get into her sister’s pants and put a rock on her finger.</p><p> </p><p>“What about your internship?” Kate reminded her, dropping down to the floor to take a seat. “The research one? The one you called me screaming about.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m still doing it,” Edwina assured her, “I’d never give something like that up.”</p><p> </p><p>“So why are we even having this conversation?” Kate wondered aloud. “You aren’t going for the holiday, so I’m not going for the holiday. Simple as that.”</p><p> </p><p>“I promised Anthony I’d go for weekend trips,” Edwina then dropped her voice lower, mumbling the next bit into the pillow, “and <em>you’d</em> be there for a month.”</p><p> </p><p>“You what?” Kate leaned forward, ready to leap up and smack her sister with the fluffy pillow she loved so much. “You said I’d stay there the entire <em>month</em>? Are you nuts?”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate! You should have seen his face,” Edwina slumped, pitiful, “he looked so disappointed I wouldn’t be able to be there so…so I think you being there is nice substitute!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, <em>substitute</em>,” Kate yelped, appalled by the turn of events. Unable to look at her sister’s begging and pleading eyes, Kate flopped back against the floor, not caring if she got any wayward paint in her hair, back, or bum. “What every man wants—their girlfriend’s sister spending a romantic month with them on the country side.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not romantic.” Edwina stood up from the armchair, towering over Kate for once. “His entire family is going to be there. <em>All</em> of them. I believe he has seven siblings? Seven, Kate. That doesn’t sound romantic in the least to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose…”</p><p> </p><p>Eight was a lot of siblings. She could barely handle one, she couldn’t imagine being the eldest of eight. No wonder Anthony looked so high strung. He looked like he had a stick up his arse in nearly every photo she’d seen of him. A pity considering he’d be something close to handsome if it weren’t for his serious face and frown.</p><p> </p><p>Crouching down, Edwina joined Kate on the floor. The two laid side by side, staring up at the blue sky mural above them. Soft clouds in the hazy blue, warmed by the various lamps scattered around the room.</p><p> </p><p>It was Kate’s favorite spot in the flat. Well…<em>second</em> favorite. She did like her little nook by the window, where the sun laid out just right when London decided to not give clouds and horrible downpours.</p><p> </p><p>“Think of it this way,” Edwina latched her hands with Kate’s, intertwining the two in the air, “you,” she motioned their conjoined hands to Kate, “get an all-expenses paid trip to the country side, you get to stay in an <em>Architectural Digest’s</em> approved house, <em>and</em> you get to spend hours painting in an award winning garden for the entire month of July.”</p><p> </p><p>When she went through her hardcore gardening and landscaping phase, Kate saved a few articles about Violet Bridgerton’s award winning garden; it was exquisite year round and a sight to behold in full bloom. No idiot would pass up an opportunity to see the garden in person, especially since no one outside of the family and selected reporters had stepped foot on the estate since Edmund Bridgerton’s passing some sixteen years prior. “Perhaps you have a point.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I have a point!” Edwina sat up, grinning. “I’m not called the ‘smart one’ for no reason.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oi!” Kate launched the fluffy pillow at Edwina’s head. Naturally, she missed, knocking over a stack of books on her desk instead. “Who says you’re the ‘smart one’? I have never heard that phrase uttered in my life!”</p><p> </p><p>(More like the ‘pretty one’ if anything. Though Kate would never say such a thing; she loved her sister too much to be cruel.)</p><p> </p><p>Ignoring her sister’s indignation, Edwina stood up and straightened her clothes. “So does this mean you’ll go to Aubrey Hall?”</p><p> </p><p>“It means…”</p><p> </p><p>Kate bit her lips together, genuinely considering the question.</p><p> </p><p>She’d happily go to Aubrey Hall—that is if Anthony Bridgerton wasn’t involved. However the likeliness of she going to Aubrey Hall without the connection to a Bridgerton was slim to none. This left the real question on the table: did she want to go to Aubrey Hall and keep an eye on Anthony and his intentions or did she <em>not</em> go to Aubrey Hall and be left to wonder what the hell the man had planned for her sister during this holiday and worry she’d end up with an insufferable brother-in-law by the end of the summer.</p><p> </p><p>A difficult decision. One where she lost a decent summer no matter the outcome.</p><p> </p><p>“It means… I’ll sleep on it and give you an answer tomorrow morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I’ll spend the night and be there when you come to your decision,” Edwina shot back, head held high in determination. “You are not going to weasel out of this, Katherine Sharma-Sheffield.”</p><p> </p><p>There was no getting out this. Her sister’s mind was made up and Kate only wanted to protect her for as long as possible. “Fine! Fine! I’ll go! Just don’t expect me to become best friends with the bastard!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh I knew you’d agree sooner or later,” Edwina cheered, dropping down beside Kate for a quick hug. She leapt back up before Kate could reciprocate. “I must tell Anthony you agreed! He’ll be so excited!”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Why did the sister agreed to come? I swear she wants to make my life ten times more complicated!”</p><p> </p><p>Sitting at the kitchen counter, eating a blueberry scone, Colin silently watched his brother pace back and forth. Back and forth, a never ending tight walkaround.</p><p> </p><p>They’d been the first to arrive at Aubrey Hall, nearly a week earlier than the rest of the family.</p><p> </p><p>As the eldest and owner of the estate, Anthony wanted to make sure the house and amenities were set before the Bridgerton clan arrived. A simple, but tiresome task, considering he also spent half his days on video conference calls for work and the other half in a ridiculous text chain with his siblings and the Sharma-Sheffield sisters.</p><p> </p><p>Well, one Sharma-Sheffield sister.</p><p> </p><p>Edwina was hashing out all the travel details while Kate continued to leave the messages on read, only reacting with a ‘thumbs up’ to give any indication she agreed and understood their summer plans.</p><p> </p><p>(Except for one instance where she insisted on bringing her dog, Newton. This came in the form of one singular paragraph-size text message sent out of the group chat, just between him and Kate.</p><p> </p><p>She’d been brisk and to the point, all while laying out reasons A,B, and C as to why her corgi needed to be in her care instead of shackled up in a kennel for the holiday.</p><p> </p><p>He only read up to ‘reason A’ before he sent a text back, agreeing.</p><p> </p><p>If Edwina’s ramblings about her sister were true, that corgi was the damn love of Kate’s life. Anything that distracted Kate at Aubrey Hall was considered a friend and god send.)</p><p> </p><p>Of course Colin was there because free food was better than any other food. And being at the estate early meant he didn’t need to go grocery shopping or make his own meals.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure the sister isn’t that bad—”</p><p> </p><p>“She is!” Anthony interjected before his brother could finish his thought. “She is a nuisance!”</p><p> </p><p>“How can she be a nuisance if you never met her?” Colin asked, genuinely confused yet amused by the paradox. “How can she cause you so much grief when—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s phone buzzed.</p><p> </p><p>He stopped his pacing and picked up the phone. A relived yet stressed sigh escaped him. “It’s mother. She’s asking if I heard from Eloise because she is not answering her messages and calls. Again.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin winced. Picking up another scone from the arrangement on the table, he carefully considered the pastry before taking a large bite. “Now that I think about it…I haven’t heard from Eloise in a good few days. She hasn’t said anything in the chat and that’s not like her,” he said with a full mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony braced his hands against the counter, brows furrowing. “That’s not like Eloise at all. She always has something to say. At very least an emoji reaction.”</p><p> </p><p>Both brothers shared a concerned stare. Eloise was the sister they arguably worried about the least; she had an independent spirit and knew what she wanted in life. Not to mentioned she didn’t need any help in the self-defense department; she had a better shot than any of them when they went out hunting and was a purple belt in taekwondo.</p><p> </p><p>But over the last couple of months there had been a shift. Their once nosey, mouthy little sister was appearing less and less in the family group chat and her spontaneous visits were practically nonexistent. She kept in contact and showed up for a planned brunch or two, but not without some badgering from Daphne or Mother.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony assumed it was school keeping her busy, but now he wondered.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll call her,” Colin offered, pulling out his phone.</p><p> </p><p>“Good, you do that. I’ll—” His phone buzzed again. “I’ll answer <em>that</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He swiped his phone. “Anthony, please tell me you’ve heard from Eloise? She’s sending my calls to voicemail. Does she think I do not notice when the phone does not even tone but goes straight to leaving a message?” An aggravated sigh escaped his mother, before more pleasant tone followed. “I’m sorry. I am just frustrated with your sister.”</p><p> </p><p>“I understand, Mother,” Anthony assured her, glancing over to the dinning room where Colin stood on the phone. “And I am sure Eloise is fine. It’s <em>Eloise</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right, you’re right,” his mother cleared her throat, attempting to compose herself once more. If there was one thing Violet Bridgerton loved with her entire being, it was her children. Anthony knew she could not help but worry over them, especially if they acted out of the norm. She took pride in knowing her children, not many mothers did. He could not help but appreciate this about his mother, even if it meant being the middle man in a phone call-correspondence craze.</p><p> </p><p>Catching Anthony’s eye, Colin gave a thumps up. He got through to Eloise. <em>Thank god.</em></p><p> </p><p>“Colin is actually talking to Eloise as we speak,” Anthony added. “So rest assured, she is fine and will be here for holiday. <em>As she</em> <em>always</em> <em>is</em>!” He may have spoke louder than necessary, but Colin caught the drift, relaying the information to their younger sister.</p><p> </p><p>One could only hope Colin kept his spine in check when Eloise bit back.</p><p> </p><p>“Good, good,” his mother muttered, sounding more relaxed than she did moments ago. “All good things…speaking of good things—” Oh no. “—what is this I hear about you inviting guests for our summer holiday?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s eyes screwed shut, a silent curse slipping from his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Composing himself, he cleared his throat before speaking. “I thought you didn’t read <em>Lady Whistledown</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>“I have a goggle alert for anything ‘Bridgerton’,” his mother shot back before he could say anything further. “And when <em>Lady Whistledown</em> tweets about my son inviting a woman he intends to marry, I read her insidious gossip.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Anthony began, knowing he needed to tell his mother eventually. He just assumed he’d tell her in person and in private rather than over the phone with Colin’s curious ears and even more curious stomach less than ten feet away. “I did invite guests for holiday. I know we don’t usually do this—”</p><p> </p><p>“Because it is reserved for family and close friends, and you know why.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Better to agree. Always better to agree. “However, I have invited Edwina Sheffield because… perhaps for once <em>Lady Whistledown</em> is credible.”</p><p> </p><p>A stunned silence sounded on the line before, “You plan to propose?” she asked in delighted surprise.</p><p> </p><p>“If she and the family get along,” Anthony stated casually, trying to not get his mother’s hopes up too high. The last thing he wanted was for her to believe a flourishing marriage was on the horizon for him. To him it was a simple ‘next step in life’ situation. “Then yes. I plan to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh this is…wonderful,” his mother praised, however her shock was still present. “I look forward to meeting her then.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure both Sheffield girls are excited to meet you as well,” Anthony told her, reminding himself to not grit his teeth at the thought of Kate.</p><p> </p><p>“Both Sheffield girls?” his mother asked. “I hadn’t realize you invited her sister as well.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t have much of an option,” Anthony confessed over the phone, withholding a sigh. His mother didn’t need to know his annoyance of Kate. “Edwina adores her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then she knows the importance of family,” Violet insisted, catching his less than pleased tone at the vague mention of Kate. “I always did believe anyone who joined our family ought to know the significance of familial bonds. And if you are considering this girl for the long term as you claim…”</p><p> </p><p>“I am,” he assured her.</p><p> </p><p>“Then this is a blessing not a curse, Anthony. And you should see it that way.”</p><p> </p><p>He rolled his eyes, glad his mother was miles away rather than in front of him. He’d never dare commit such defiance in front of her.</p><p> </p><p>“I will try—”</p><p> </p><p>His phone buzzed with another message.</p><p> </p><p>“It sounds like you are busy.” His mother attempted to hide her disappointment, smothering her words with a soft cheer. But Anthony knew better. “I will talk to you tomorrow, alright? I already emailed the cook and the grounds keeper about July sixteenth—”</p><p> </p><p>“Those were next on my list,” Anthony said, trying his best to not be exasperated, “and it is my job to contact them. Not yours anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>A put-out huff escaped his mother. “I am only trying to help. And I have been planning this holiday for years—”</p><p> </p><p>“And it is now my job to do. You don’t need to worry about anything,” he said, hoping she understood he was the one helping her this time, and he wanted to.</p><p> </p><p>Hasty goodbyes were exchanged, Anthony hanging up the call only to received another within seconds.</p><p> </p><p>This time from Francesca.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Can I invite—”</em></p><p> </p><p>“No! <em>No boys</em>!” He hung up before she could finish her question. Resting his head against the closest cabinet, he sighed into a slump.</p><p> </p><p>“Phone calls bring you down?” Colin asked, a cheeky grin through his words.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Anthony muttered, slowly lifting his head. “Yes. If I get another phone call or question about this holiday I will kill whoever it is! And I’ll kill them twice if I have to!”</p><p> </p><p>“So now is not a good time to tell you Eloise invited Penelope for holiday?” Colin winced out, eyeing his older brother carefully.</p><p> </p><p>Biting his lips together, Anthony gave a small shake of his head. “It’s…fine,” he uttered, for once genuinely meaning it, “it’s just Penelope. She’s basically family anyway.” His tossed his phone down on the counter. He needed a break. A good, solid break before the chaos came to full fruition. “I am going to nap for a half hour. Wake me when the half hour is up. Please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course brother dear,” Colin cheered, watching Anthony leave.</p><p> </p><p>Without even needing to look back, Anthony knew what his brother was doing. A tired smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I changed my phone password. No stupid selfies for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn it!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony knew his siblings far too well to make the same mistake twice.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>| @ladywhistledown</p><p>
  <em>Sources say…this summer shall be one full of surprises! Perhaps a secret romances are amongst us &amp; perhaps engagements &amp; perhaps plenty of drama!</em>
</p><p><em>I promise dear moots to keep you in the loop </em> <em>😉</em></p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For all of you who were wondering if Penelope will be at Aubrey Hall... SHE SURE IS! Can't leave my girl Pen out of the chaos, lol.</p><p>And what is up with Eloise (if you read her book, you might have an idea...👀).</p><p>For reference, here is a breakdown of the ages: Anthony - 35, Benedict- 33, Colin-28, Daphne-27, Eloise- 23, Francesca - 22, Gregory - 18, Hyacinth -16, Violet -55, Kate -26, Simon -35, and Edwina -23.</p><p>Next chapter will bring in a whole slew of characters, as well as a fateful meeting! ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Bridgerton Welcome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thought a chapter for the weekend would do us all some good. Slowly responding to comments, but know I appreciate and love every single one!</p><p>Some dialogue is from TVWLM; I don't own it.</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Stop it!”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you stop it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well I told you first!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well I am older!”</p><p> </p><p>“Like that means <em>anything</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>The grumblings from the entryway were none other than Gregory and Hyacinth. Anthony did not need to leave the comfort of his study to recognize the yelping and outcries of his two youngest siblings.</p><p> </p><p>His emails would have to wait. He had his family to greet and if anyone caught whiff of him trying to squeeze in work during holiday, they’d surely tell Mother. Closing his laptop and tucking it away into the cupboard behind him, Anthony left the safety of his study for the foyer.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t both of you cut it out? Whatever it is you are doing…” Anthony called out upon turning the corner, only to stumble on to the sight of Hyacinth holding Gregory into a rather sever headlock. Both of their suitcases were dropped by the door in their haste, along with book bags and other miscellaneous travel belongings. Neither had a sense of tidiness, this not the first time Anthony greeted the two only to be met by chaos.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony!” Both froze, eyes wide. Arms were dropped back to their sides, though not without Hyacinth giving Gregory one final disgruntled shove.</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning,” Hyacinth finally said, Gregory echoing the same sentiments a fraction later.</p><p> </p><p>“How was the trip?” Anthony asked instead, eyes darting around the room. He didn’t hear his mother come in, so it could only mean she was taking her time, perhaps asking for a drive around the grounds before coming inside. “Didn’t cause the driver too many issues now did you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh the driver didn’t bring us,” Gregory corrected, earning a nudge and ‘hush’ from Hyacinth.</p><p> </p><p>However, Anthony caught the blatant exchange. “What do you mean the driver didn’t bring you? I ordered a car to pick you three up at eight—”</p><p> </p><p>“I drove us!”</p><p> </p><p>All three looked to their mother, Violet Bridgerton standing tall in the doorway with a proud smile. Her usual tight bun had been traded for a looser ponytail bringing a tinge of youthfulness that had not been within her in the past. Then there was the fact she dragged along her own luggage and was wearing <em>trainers</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He was positive the last time he’d seen his mother wear trainers he was sixteen and it was because she wanted to join him for a charity marathon.</p><p> </p><p>“You—<em>what</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“I drove us,” his mother repeated, shutting the front door behind her. “I thought, ‘why are we going to hire a driver to take us when I can just drive us myself!’”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony floundered. “I—I didn’t even realize you still knew how to drive,” he stated lamely. For the last sixteen years his mother’s permanent residence was in town, hence the lack of personal vehicle. While in town she liked to walk everywhere or occasionally take the tube. More often than not she had a personal driver who take her places further, but Violet was a true homebody. She liked staying in and having her children fill her home rather than go out and about.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I still know how to drive,” Mother huffed, “it’s like riding a bike. You don’t forget it.”</p><p> </p><p>“A really bumpy bike,” Gregory muttered, far enough from his mother’s ears to not get a reprimanding.</p><p> </p><p>“Then what about the driver?” Anthony asked, brows furrowing. “He was going to be your driver here—”</p><p> </p><p>“I sent him home with a promise of full pay,” Violet waved off, coming over to him with her arms open. She brought Anthony into a warm hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “We are all adults,” her eyes slid over to Gregory and Hyacinth, “or almost adults. We can all drive ourselves places, son.” She pulled away and patted his cheek lovingly. “I think it will be a nice change of pace for us. Now where is Colin! I haven’t seen him since Christmas!”</p><p> </p><p>She bustled up the stairs, Colin’s name shouted through the halls as she gamely searched for him.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony could only help but stare.</p><p> </p><p>“What…was <em>that</em>?” He’d never seen his mother so…perky? No, that wasn’t the right word. Jolly? Positive? Yes, she was a relatively happy woman, but there was a light somberness to her. A somberness that had been present since his father passed. She was the widow with eight children, watching them grow into full fledged adults without the man she loved by her side. Melancholy was expected.</p><p> </p><p>But this... giddiness and jovial attitude was unexpected.</p><p> </p><p>“We have no clue,” Gregory whispered, also disturbed. “She was like that for the entire ride.”</p><p> </p><p>“We thought maybe she had a <em>happy</em> biscuit,” Hyacinth added, “if you know what I mean…” She raised her eyebrows dramatically.</p><p> </p><p>“I know what <em>happy biscuits</em> are, Hyacinth,” Anthony gritted, “I want to know how you know what ‘happy biscuits’ are? Care to tell me?” His eyes darted between both of them. “Either of you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Would you look at the time!” His sister checked her wrist, where no watch was latched. “I need to unpack before lunch!”</p><p> </p><p>“Dear sister let me help you!” Gregory hurried after her, grabbing his own suitcase as well as Hyacinth’s book bag. The two scrambled up the stairs, making a right to the west wing where all the family lodgings were located.</p><p> </p><p>From the bottom of the stairs Anthony shook his head at the two.</p><p> </p><p>Gregory and Hyacinth were a different breed than his other siblings. He partially blamed it on himself, he partially blamed it on the universe.</p><p> </p><p>“You must absolutely tell me everything about your time in France,” Mother’s voice drifted from upstairs. Soon she and Colin appeared by the banister, her arm looped with his as they came down. “I remember your father and I went for holiday right before you were born. I always wanted to go back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh,” Colin stuttered, giving his best boyish smile, “it was great. Fun. Lots of history…I don’t want to bore you with the details.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nonsense!” She hugged his arm close. “You can never bore me.”</p><p> </p><p>“O-kay,” Colin sent a puzzled glance at Anthony, “uh, well getting there was interesting. I was leaving from the States, since I was there to discuss my book with the publisher…” The two disappeared off towards the kitchen, Colin’s words fading.</p><p> </p><p>Mother rarely asked for <em>full</em> details about Colin’s travels. She supported him, of course, wanting all her children to flourish and succeed, but she always missed him terribly when he was gone. Details were just reminders he wasn’t there.</p><p> </p><p>Putting aside his concerns for his mother (Colin could handle her on his own), Anthony double checked his watch. Half past ten; Daphne and Simon weren’t due for another hour, if they were taking the train as planned, which meant he had plenty of time to get back to work, answer his emails before he officially clocked out for the week and—</p><p> </p><p>“I cannot believe she’d say something like that—”</p><p> </p><p>“Well I <em>can</em> because it is the same song and dance since forever,” Daphne huffed, arms laden with several travel bags, all perfectly matching. “It is like she’s pushing me out the door before I have even made up my mind!”</p><p> </p><p>“And we all know you need time to make up your mind,” Simon remarked.</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly, thank you.” She smiled up at her husband before continuing her trek into the house. It took her less than three seconds to spot Anthony, who’d been there for the entire tail-end of their conversation. “Anthony! I didn’t expect to see you there.”</p><p> </p><p>“It seems a lot of people have not been expecting my presence,” Anthony said, recalling how surprised each sibling had been upon being greeted by him. “It’s as though I do not own the house and should not be here.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne was not amused, rolling her eyes. “Of course we expect you here, you dummy.” She set down her luggage on the entry bench, before pulling him into a welcoming hug. “I have missed you and your grumpy face.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I have missed you,” Anthony mumbled into her shoulder, genuinely happy to see his sister. Daphne’s presence was always welcomed, even if it occasionally induced a headache on his part. “I assume all is well?” he asked quietly, she knowing the meaning.</p><p> </p><p>Pulling away, she planted her hands on his shoulders, a small smile on her lips. “Yes. No need to worry.” She gave his shoulders a firm squeeze and broke away for Simon to greet him.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony,” Simon nodded, his shake steady.</p><p> </p><p>“Simon,” he muttered back, giving his old friend a grin and gripping shake back. “Long time no see. That law firm treating you well?”</p><p> </p><p>Once upon a time Simon Basset worked for Bridgerton Media Publications as a legal consultant. A job Anthony had appointed to his dear friend as an excuse for the man to avoid following in his father’s footsteps of join the Hastings law firm as all Basset men had done before him.</p><p> </p><p>It was also an excuse for them to hang out and go out after work whenever either saw fit.</p><p> </p><p>Of course things changed when Simon started to date Daphne and eventually married Anthony’s eldest younger sister. Friendship lines shifted and without prompting Simon resigned as legal consultant and joined a corporate law firm.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony didn’t want his best friend, now family, to leave the company, but he wasn’t going to object to Simon’s decision. If his brother-in-law ever decided to return, Anthony would give him his position back in a heartbeat.</p><p> </p><p>But he didn’t think that would be the case anytime soon.</p><p> </p><p>“As well as it can be,” Simon said through a polite smile.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought so.” Anthony broke the shake, stepping away from the two, checking his watch again. “You two are early. I thought the train wouldn’t come in until at least half past eleven—”</p><p> </p><p>“We drove,” Daphne supplied with a shrug. “Simon has never taken the drive and we thought it’d be a nice change of pace.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony chewed the inside of his cheek. “But I ordered a driver to pick you two up—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then just cancel it,” Simon said, not seeing the problem. “There was a change of plans. Nothing we can do about it now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” Anthony said sharply. “I will take care of that then.” Turning on his heel, he began to march back to his study with his phone in hand to contact the driver.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you take our luggage to our room,” Daphne told Simon, her husband leaving to do so with little argument.</p><p> </p><p>That should have been a warning sign he’d be ambushed</p><p> </p><p>“What is this I hear about you bringing a girl?” Daphne asked, popping into his study right after him.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sat down behind his desk, barely looked up from his phone as he messaged the driver the change in plans. His sister ambled into the room, taking a seat across from him like she had done so many times, a teasing grin on her lips.</p><p> </p><p>“Who told you such a thing?” He glanced away from the screen, raising an annoyed eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“Mother has informed everyone to be on their best behavior when the Sheffield’s arrive,” Daphne explained, leaning over to him with imploring eyes. Her hands rested on her knee, wedding band and engagement ring glistening in the afternoon light. “So I am simply doing my sisterly duty to know who exactly this girl is! Who has captured my dear older brother’s heart?”</p><p> </p><p>“She has not captured my heart,” Anthony muttered, dropping his phone down on the desk once the message was sent. Avoiding Daphne’s curious eyes, he began reorganizing the scattered papers on his desk. He didn’t need her to snoop over any of the dull forms he needed to sign and scan back to the office. “But she is a kind girl. Smart. Attractive. Loyal.”</p><p> </p><p>“You sound like you are describing a golden retriever,” Daphne scolded lightly. “Tell me about her! I want to know everything there is to know about…” She trailed off, not knowing the girl’s name.</p><p> </p><p>“Edwina,” he supplied. He unlocked his drawer, depositing the papers neatly into their folders before locking it back up. His siblings were known to get into mischief, even in their adulthood; he didn’t need any of his work damaged in the efforts of an ill-attempted prank.</p><p> </p><p>“Edwina,” Daphne tested the name. “Anthony and Edwina,” she tried again. “Sounds nice, I suppose?” She was unsure of her statement.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony rolled his eyes. “Why aren’t you with your husband? Shouldn’t you be bothering him?”</p><p> </p><p>“Simon can handle taking our luggage to our room by himself,” Daphne waved off, “And if Hyacinth and Gregory are here, they’ve probably already latched themselves to him. You know how they are. They cling to Simon like he is the most fascinating creature in the world. As they should,” she said with pride for her husband. Simon had a natural connection with the youngest Bridgerton’s, often letting the two talk his ear off for hours without any complaint. He assumed they saw Simon as the ‘cool older brother-in-law,’ an equivalent to a ‘cool uncle.’ Someone in the family who perhaps wouldn’t save anything they uttered as blackmail and could offer real life advice, rather than Bridgerton Life advice. “And I can be with my husband any day, but rarely do I get to see my older brother. Truly, how are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am—”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony! Your guest has arrived!” The tell-tale of Colin’s taunt sounded down the hall, causing both Daphne and Anthony to wince.</p><p> </p><p>Standing up from his chair, Anthony looked out the study window only catching a glimpse of who stood in the roundabout driveway. A cab-car was parked out front, however only one woman stepped out. Along with the bloody corgi.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn it,” Anthony mumbled, wiping an exhausted hand over his mouth, “she’s not supposed to be here until tomorrow.” Huffing, he turned away from the window and marched right out of his study.</p><p> </p><p>No matter the fact it was Kate instead of Edwina, he needed to get to her before anyone else. He didn’t trust any of his family to keep their mouths shut about why she and her sister were invited to Aubrey Hall.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that her?” Daphne asked, following Anthony. Mumblings and footsteps of the other Bridgertons sounded through the aged house, nosey and keen to meet the girl Anthony had been seeing.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Anthony answered, bypassing a scurrying Hyacinth, who’d popped out from the stairs like a gopher. “Watch where you are going!” he warned her, though the sixteen year old paid him no mind. “It’s the <em>other</em> Sheffield.”</p><p> </p><p>“The sister?” Daphne asked, keeping up pace.</p><p> </p><p>He scowled down at her. “How much did Mother tell you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Enough to know you are probably in over your head on this matter,” she told him primly as they rounded the corner back into the open foyer. “But it will be delight to watch.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony didn’t warrant her comment with a response. Instead, he marched through the wide open door. “Colin, where—”</p><p> </p><p>His words fell short when his eyes landed on <em>her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Struggling to carry a suitcase, satchel, water bottle, and hold her dog’s leash in the other hand, the woman could be no one other than Kate. Edwina’s <em>Kate</em>.</p><p> </p><p>However she looked nothing like he imagined.</p><p> </p><p>Sure, he’d seen a fleeting photo here and there, but the woman did not seem to part take in the social media craze like their contemporaries, so he had little to base off of. Especially since Edwina’s photos of Kate never seemed to fully capture the woman, as though she slipped right out of the photo right before the camera clicked and the flash echoed.</p><p> </p><p>But he heard the murmurs from those in Edwina’s circle who’d met Kate.</p><p> </p><p>Apparently, she wasn’t as beautiful as her sister. Most often Kate was referred to as the ‘forgotten sister’, simply because she was forgotten when in the presence of Edwina.</p><p> </p><p>How this was the case, Anthony did not know. There was a certain beauty to Kate—he knew it upon first laying eyes on her.</p><p> </p><p>Where Edwina was petite, blue eyed, and fair haired, her sister was the opposite. Not necessarily tall, but indeed taller in comparison to Edwina, if not by a few mere inches. Thick brown hair, dark brown eyes, and tanner than her younger sister. Her features were striking, enough to cause a man to stop and stare and take the time to observe the slope of her nose, the twist of her lips, or the pinch of her brow. To stop and simply see her…</p><p> </p><p>And she was spilling all her belongings onto the gravel.</p><p> </p><p>“Aw, shit,” she muttered, dropping down into an awkward crouch as she tried to shove the books and sketch pads back into her satchel with little luck.</p><p> </p><p>The curse brought Anthony back to his senses. He rushed over to her, picking up the sketchpad, only for a leash to be shoved into his face instead.</p><p> </p><p>“Take him,” she ordered, “I’ll take care of this. Just keep Newton at bay.”</p><p> </p><p>Wrapping the leather leash around his hand, Anthony got a good grip of the corgi. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“You said I could come on the Wednesday or Thursday,” Kate said between puffing breaths, shoving her books and sketchpads into place. “It’s Wednesday.”</p><p> </p><p>Her rolling suitcase toppled over to the side, dust spurring up in its landing. She swallowed another aggravated groan. Luckily she was saved from more luggage humiliation as Colin hurried over to grab the suitcase, her other duffle and muslin tote bag slung over his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that all?” Colin asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I believe so,” Kate quickly glanced over to the cabbie. “I just need to pay the fare—”</p><p> </p><p>“Already taken care of,” Colin assured her.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. There was no need.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded to her, a small grin forming. “You’re a guest. It was no problem.” With that, he made his way back into the house, passing the curious faces lingering around the door.</p><p> </p><p>Upon seeing Anthony’s glare, his siblings scurried away from sight. But by the thudding of feet, he knew they must have hurried to the next available windows with a view of the house’s entry.</p><p> </p><p>“And I presumed you’d arrive on the Thursday. With your sister,” Anthony told Kate, not understanding why the woman decided to show an entire day early. Edwina was to take a long weekend. She was coming on the <em>Thursday</em>. Not the Wednesday.</p><p> </p><p>“As I stated before, you said Wednesday or Thursday.” Kate hiked her satchel further on her shoulder, the bag slipping once again from the weight. “Edwina is busy. She told me she might not even make it for the Thursday train. So I went ahead.” Kate shrugged not seeing the problem.</p><p> </p><p>No one ever did see the freaking ‘problem’, did they?</p><p> </p><p>“Might not make the Thursday train?” Anthony echoed, feeling his jaw clench. This woman spoke with nonchalance and authority, yet seemed aware of his plans (he’d later learn she’d call it ‘fuss’—making a fuss over the holiday) and tauntingly jabbed at his annoyance.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Kate nodded slowly, as though she were speaking with a toddler, “she’s ‘invested,’” she threw air quotes around the word, rolling her eyes as she did so, “in the research. How she can stand talking philosophy and staring at old parchment all day is beyond me.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony restrained against the begging curve of his lip. He wasn’t going to smile at the remark. He <em>wasn’t</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Though it did beg for a laugh and some commissary.</p><p> </p><p>He cleared his throat. The corgi pulled on the leash, yet Anthony kept his strong hold. The damn thing was already a nuisance with all his tugging and pulling. This woman didn’t know how to keep her dog in place, that much was certain if Newton’s insistent moving and whining were anything to go by. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” He held out his free hand. “Anthony Bridgerton.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate looked down at his hand, warry. But she stuck to her manners, taking his hand for a firm shake. “I know who you are, Bridgerton.”</p><p> </p><p>Her polite smile tensed, struggling to remain intact.</p><p> </p><p>“Edwina has mentioned a lot about you,” Anthony said, in hopes to make pleasant conversation. “Always on about her sister Kate.” But of course he could not fight the disdain in his tone. “With how much she talks about you, I feel like we already know each other.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate caught on quick, polite smile dropping down into a sharp frown.</p><p> </p><p>“Same for you I suppose,” Kate mused, squinting up at him. “To be perfectly frank, I find this holiday invitation surprising.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why is that?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been seeing Edwina for a total of three, almost four months, and you invite her and her sister to a family holiday?” She tilted her head to the side, lips pursed as she considered the thought. “I find it all a bit…odd.”</p><p> </p><p>“Odd how?”</p><p> </p><p>“Odd, odd.” She crossed her arms over her chest, staring up at him with calculating eyes. “When I said I know you, I also meant of I know of your reputation.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, I see.” The damn dog tried to waddle away again. Anthony pulled the leash taut. The corgi listened, sitting down by their feet. “And what exactly about my reputation?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your wild child days,” she answered, “the rumors you kept a series of ‘companions,’” she once again went with the air quotes, “which we all know is code for ‘fuck-buddies’ for the last few years. Not to mention you seem to have all these women wrapped around your finger.” Her dark eyes locked on him, daring him to counter her. “And now…at your ripe thirty-five years of age…” He gritted his teeth as the jab. “…you are dating an innocent, sweet little scholar nearly thirteen years your junior. Something about this doesn’t <em>and</em> does add up.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes narrowed on her, intrigued by her. “And what is that?”</p><p> </p><p>“You either are having a late quarter life crisis or,” she stood straight, oozing confidence in a snap, “…or you intend to marry my sister.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina never mentioned how perceptive and smart as a whip her <em>dear sister</em> happened to be.</p><p> </p><p>He then recalled she was a school teacher. An art teacher, but a school teacher nonetheless. Of course she was perceptive as hell.</p><p> </p><p>“And what if I plan to marry your sister?” Anthony asked, keeping his voice low and leveled despite the fact he wanted to yell, scream, and maybe—<em>just maybe</em>—act a little petty and shove her like a toddler would on a playground. “What if I plan to propose by the end of the month?</p><p> </p><p>“Then let’s get one thing straight,” Kate stepped up to him, eyes still locked to his, not daring to inch away, “you will <em>not</em> be engaged to my sister by the end of the month. You will <em>not</em> wed her. You will <em>not</em> even have a relationship with her in a month’s time. I will not allow it.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony laughed. He laughed right in her face.</p><p> </p><p>“You will not <em>allow</em> it?” Anthony echoed, far too amused by the declarative nature of her words. He had utter such words before in face of his own siblings challenges. A typical phrase to come from the mouth of an older brother or sister. The last time he uttered such words were when his oldest friend and sister decided to date. And look where that ended; the two were disgustingly happy and married. “Well, I do believe this is <em>not</em> your choice, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“You and I both know my sister takes my judgement to heart,” Kate told him, the weight of her reminder sitting upon him heavily. “She’ll never marry someone I do not approve.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you don’t approve of me.” Not a question but a mere statement of understanding, or at least an understanding of where he and Kate stood—enemies. True and tried enemies in a stubborn standoff neither was keen to lose. “You hate me,” he grinned down at her, well and thoroughly amused by her upset. “Why do you hate me so much? All of this hate based off of rumors you heard?”</p><p> </p><p>“I do not hate you,” Kate huffed, mouth twisting into a scowl, “I don’t hate anyone I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you don’t know me,” he said, putting the pieces together. “But I believe if you <em>do</em> get to know me, your opinion will change.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate was beyond unconvinced, she full on glowering at him. “You are the last man I would ever let my sister marry,” she said, teeth gritted. “Remember that going forward.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, she held her hand out for Newton’s leash.</p><p> </p><p>Mouth in a firm line, Anthony held the leash above Kate’s awaiting hand. Not dropping it just yet.</p><p> </p><p>“If I ask her to marry me, she will not say ‘no’.” Anthony believed this for certain. Edwina was a smart girl, one who want to live comfortably so she could continue her scholarly pursuits. She must have thought, at least once, the benefit it would be to marry a man like him. Based on what he knew of the girl, Anthony liked to believed Edwina would accept his proposal.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you saying no woman has been able to resist you?” Kate deadpanned, disbelief etched on her face. Disbelief of his arrogance or the mere implication of the question, he was not too sure.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony did not answer the question, just a raise of an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>An indignant huffed rattled though her, a flush smattering her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>By god, it was <em>fun</em> to get under her skin. Anthony could not help his smirk.</p><p> </p><p>He dropped the leash in her hand. “Do remember who’s home you are staying at,” he said, taking his leave.</p><p> </p><p>Behind him, she tugged her corgi along, following him up the front stairs into the house.</p><p> </p><p>One thing became startling clear: If Anthony had any intention to marry Edwina, he needed to win over the heart and approval of Kate first.</p><p> </p><p>Goodness, did he have his work cut out for him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AND THEY MET. I could not let the week end without Anthony and Kate meeting! :D</p><p>Ooooooo I am so excited!</p><p>Some Bridgertons are not there yet (Eloise and company, Benedict, and Francesca) but will be there soon!</p><p>Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Grand Tour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is literally almost 7k words of Anthony and Kate. Just Anthony and Kate. It's ridiculous.</p><p>Slowly responding to comments, but know I appreciate every single one!</p><p>Btw, the 20 chapter count is a suggestion for me...it could very well (and may be) more 😂</p><p>Also this Benedict is very much in the realm of the show rather than the books (mostly because I haven't read Benedict's book and I loved the show version....ekkkkkk)</p><p>Typos will be fixed later. Enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Upon entering the house, Anthony knew two things—</p><p> </p><p>One; His siblings and mother had been listening to the entire conversation. Well, as much as they could within the distance.</p><p> </p><p>Two; they were terrible at hiding it.</p><p> </p><p>As though someone shouted at them to ‘act natural’ before he and Kate walked through the door, there were various tableaus scattered around the foyer. Hyacinth staring at the ground, Gregory staring at the vaulted ceilings; neither doing a great job at being interested in nothing. Daphne stared at the sideboard beside the tall windows as though it were the most fascinating masterpiece. Simon at least had the sense to pull out his phone and scroll through it, though everyone knew he detested social media and could only be going through his own camera roll.</p><p> </p><p>His mother didn’t even both trying to hide she’d been listening, popping away from the doorway the moment he and Kate entered.</p><p> </p><p>“You must be Katherine,” Violet greeted kindly. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mrs. Bridgerton you must be mistaking me for my sister,” Kate said, a sheepish. “She’s the one you really want to meet. Anthony’s girlfriend.” She looked like she swallowed a toad at the phrase.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, please call me Violet,” his mother chuckled, bringing Kate in for a welcoming hug.</p><p> </p><p>The girl stiffened but accepted the gesture. Apparently not the hugger.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony smothered a snort, pretending to cough into his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I want to meet Edwina,” Violet assured her, “but when I heard you were coming as well it meant more to look forward to. We haven’t had guests here for summer holiday in years. So you and your sister I am sure are going add some life around here.” Her eyes darted around the room, nodding to the rest of her children. “Let me introduce you to everyone—this is Daphne and her husband Simon,” she motioned to the two, both expressing their polite ‘hellos’, “and you probably met Colin,” he gave his own boyish smile to Kate, she returned the gesture, “and my youngest two, Gregory and Hyacinth.” The last of his siblings waved, both watching Kate with intense keen eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony made a note to watch for those two. When they were together mischief was abound.</p><p> </p><p>His mother sent a sharp yet encouraging glance Anthony’s way, her smile widening ever so slightly. “How about Anthony gives you a tour of the grounds while we get you settled in?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mother, I have a schedule—”</p><p> </p><p>“And schedules can change, Anthony,” Mother told him, her voice bright, however her tone edge in warning. She turned back to Kate. “We’ll get you all settled in the Rose Room while you have your tour.”</p><p> </p><p>Warnings flared off in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>The Rose Room was next door to <em>his</em> room.</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, the Rose Room is reserved for Edwina,” Anthony interjected before anyone could flee the foyer just yet.</p><p> </p><p>“And where were you going to put dear Katherine?” his mother asked, not entirely pleased at the news. Perhaps mentally adding up the rooms in the West Wing in her mind.</p><p> </p><p>“East Wing,” he answered, already regretting it.</p><p> </p><p>Mother gasped, offended for his guest. “You were going to leave poor Katherine alone in the East Wing?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t mind,” Kate chimed in, a little flustered. “I can be in the East Wing.”</p><p> </p><p>“No one stays in the East Wing,” Gregory unhelpfully provided. “We think it’s haunted.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not haunted,” Anthony refrained snapping, but the conversation was causing his pulse to tick up ever so slightly. He turned to Kate, who’s eyes were narrowing on him. “It’s not haunted. It’s not. It’s just no one has stayed on that side of the house in—”</p><p> </p><p>“Nearly two decades,” Hyacinth said. Several annoyed glares were sent her way. “Makes you wonder.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Shut up</em>,” Daphne mouthed to their younger sister from across the room.</p><p> </p><p>“No one has stayed there because we never have guests,” Anthony clarified again. “Kate will be the first—”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate will stay in the Rose Room,” Violet decided, leaving no room for argument. “You told me Edwina is only coming for the weekends. It makes sense Kate stays in the Rose Room.”</p><p> </p><p>“And where will Edwina stay?” Anthony asked. The thought occurred to him she could always stay in <em>his</em> room. To be perfectly honest, he didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the idea of openly sharing a room with his girlfriend considering his mother was just down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>However he had zero objection of sneaking into her room or his hers, hence the initial room situation.</p><p> </p><p>“The same room,” Kate declared all too happily. “I have no problem sharing a room with my sister on the weekends. We’ve shared a room as kids. I might almost say we’d prefer it that way,” she added with a chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>Violet seemed overall too pleased with the decision.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony could not say the same.</p><p> </p><p>“Great!” Violet motioned to Colin to continued his way up the stairs. She held her hand out for Kate’s satchel, an encouraging smile directed to the woman. Kate was hesitant, but handed over the bag. “I’ll take this up to your room as well. I’m sure your pup would also like to get familiar with the grounds.”</p><p> </p><p>Upon the acknowledgement, Newton’s tongue lolled out in a happy pant up at the three.</p><p> </p><p>Violet chuckle. “Now off with you two,” she pushed them along while also shooing her other children away. “We’ll see you for lunch in the sunroom, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>In a snap the rest of the house made themselves scarce, not even bothering to introduce themselves in their haste to leave.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony did not know whether he wanted to kill his family or thank them. At the moment, he was leaning more towards kill.</p><p> </p><p>“They seem…nice,” Kate uttered, her voice slightly echoing in the now empty foyer.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes widened at the sound. A soft ‘oh’ escaped her.</p><p> </p><p>“They can be,” Anthony answered between clenched teeth. Knowing at least one of his siblings was lingering near a door or hall, he decided to led her in the only direction no one had vanished to—the front door. He grabbed his jacket hanging on the rack, slipping it on before opening the door for her. “Come on, before one of them comes back and wonders why were still standing here.”</p><p> </p><p>Raising an eyebrow, Kate followed, tugging Newton along until he got the memo they were walking again. The dog was happy to waddle his way down the front steps, Kate attempting to keep pace with him.</p><p> </p><p>He’d decided to  take her the long way around the ancestral home. Perhaps exhaust her or aggravate her until she decided she no longer wanted to walk across the damp and muddy land. A rainstorm had just passed through the day previous, walks around the estate sure to be a pain with the weather.</p><p> </p><p>Not the best way to win over dear Kate, but enough to keep her out of his way for the rest of day. “This is Aubrey Hall as you probably already know…”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anthony was trying to kill her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate was positive of this.</p><p> </p><p>Not even an idiot would walk the length of a country estate, with slopes and hills, after rain. It was slippery, damp, and humid. She was relieved she had enough sense to wear her old wellingtons and windbreaker while traveling <em>(“Always wear your heaviest items when traveling, dear,</em>” Mary so often reminded her.); at least she dressed appropriately for the weather.</p><p> </p><p>However her beloved Newton was not.</p><p> </p><p>Upon the first sight of a puddle, Newton had a happy little wiggle in the mud, much to Kate’s aggravation. Wisely, she kept her indignation to herself. She didn’t need Anthony to have the upper hand, more so than he already did, in this situation.</p><p> </p><p>“How are you doing there, Kate?” Anthony’s smug, all-knowing, voice called out to her.</p><p> </p><p>He stood a few paces away, watching as she struggled to pull Newton away from the puddle.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” she gritted, tugging on the leash. Newton ignored the heel, smushing his nose deeper into the mud like a piglet.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you need help?”</p><p> </p><p>“I know how to manage my own dog, damnit!” She did not care if she was rude to her host; let’s be real, all niceties were thrown out the window the moment she tossed the word ‘fuck-buddies’ around.</p><p> </p><p>With a huff, she crouched down beside Newton, keeping sure to not sit on her knees. She didn’t need her jeans to get wet as well.</p><p> </p><p>“Come boy,” she coaxed, petting behind his ear and around his jaw. That usually did the work to catch his attention. “No need to be a mess. Let’s the leave the puddle alone, my guy. Remember what happened last time?” Newton cocked his head to the side, leaning into her touch. “Yeah, the bath. The long, scrubby bath. You and I both didn’t like it, ‘member?”</p><p> </p><p>The squelch of boots against mud warned her of his presence. Looming over her, Anthony’s brows pinched. “Are you talking to the dog like it’s a person?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>He</em>. Not an ‘it’s,’ a ‘he’,” she corrected, sparing him a small glance.</p><p> </p><p>His lips twitched up, but only for a faction of a second.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s a dog. I doubt he understands what you are saying. It’s gibberish to him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not a dog person, I see.” Kate tutted, staying in her crouch. She’d rather be low in the mud with Newton, than stand any closer to Anthony. “Such a shame considering Edwina loves Newton. I might even go as far to say the doggo loves her more than me.”</p><p> </p><p>A grunt smothered in the back of his throat, Anthony’s jaw tightening. “I don’t hate dogs.”</p><p> </p><p>“You just don’t like them.”</p><p> </p><p>“I never said that.” He shook his head once. “I never said anything about a like or dislike for dogs. You are putting words into my mouth, which is very unkind for someone Edwina boasted about being the most considerate woman she knew.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate bit the inside of her cheek.</p><p> </p><p>Damn him.</p><p> </p><p>Damn him <em>and</em> damn him for dating Edwina and her sister loving her too much. “I like to think I am. I simply don’t trust people who don’t like dogs. I think it says a lot about their character.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes narrowed on her hold on Newton. “You are not commanding him.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Her head bounced from him to Newton. “What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“You act like his friend, not his master,” Anthony explained, exasperated. “You’re even crouching beside him, at eyelevel. Do you know what that says to the dog?”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you a dog expert?” Kate snapped, standing up to her full height. Which did nothing when beside Anthony, the man a good six to seven inches taller than her. “You know how to handle dogs now do you?”</p><p> </p><p>He ignored her remarks, locked in a stare down with Newton. “It tells the dog he can walk all over you. That you are at his mercy.” Anthony held out his hand. “Give me the leash.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>He slowly turned to her, hand still out. “Give. Me. The. Leash,” he ordered once more.</p><p> </p><p>“No. I will not.” Kate tucked the leash between her cross arms.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you serious?” He inched toward her, eyeing where she gripped the leash. A huff flared through his nostrils. He very well couldn’t lunge at her for the leash unless he wanted to get a good grope of her. And she knew they both didn’t want that. “You are being ridiculous,” he spat.</p><p> </p><p>“You are being demanding,” she countered. “I can manage my dog fine without your help.” To prove her point, she walked forward, tugging on the leash. “Come along, Newton!”</p><p> </p><p>Only for the leash to go taut.</p><p> </p><p>“I said ‘come on’!” She untucked the leash, both hands twisting it in a tight fist.</p><p> </p><p>She pulled again.</p><p> </p><p>Newton dug his heels into the mud, his harness lifting up. The hefty bastard didn’t move an inch, his mouth open in an excited pant.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate, stop it. You are going to hurt yourself or the dog,” Anthony warned, though he didn’t sound the least bit concerned for either her or Newton. He sound more of the verge of a vessel popping aggravation.</p><p> </p><p>But then concern <em>did</em> leap through his eyes when she snuck a peek his way. “Kate, stop—”</p><p> </p><p>The harness slipped right off Newton.</p><p> </p><p>Her feet skidded right out from under her.</p><p> </p><p>With a squelching thud, she landed on the muddy ground. Right on her back side.</p><p> </p><p>“Aw, fuck.” Kate squeezed her eyes shut as pain slowly thrummed through her body. She felt the wet grass slowly seep into her jeans. Groaning she pushed herself on her side. The world went tospsey-turvy before righting itself, her body finding its center on the cool, sopping ground. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. That <em>fucking</em> hurts.” Soreness, just unbelievable soreness.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing felt broken, except for maybe her pride.</p><p> </p><p>Squelch of boots stopped by her head. “How are you doing down there?”</p><p> </p><p>Carefully lifting her head, Kate beamed up at Anthony, teeth bared through the pain. “Peachy. Just flipping peachy.”</p><p> </p><p>Above her, Anthony held a muddy Newton in his arms, a stubborn frown pulling down on his mouth. “Want to give me that leash now?”</p><p> </p><p>Wordlessly Kate held the leash up to him. He took the leash, the harness dangling at the end of it. With ease he set Newton down beside her, latched the harness back on the corgi, and stood back up.</p><p> </p><p>Newton was about to sprint back into the puddle—</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Stay</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>And then he plopped his bum right back down, staring up at Anthony like he was his entire world.</p><p> </p><p>“Good boy,” Anthony praised, patting Newton’s head. But that was where the affection stopped while the dog waited on hand and foot for the man to give more.</p><p> </p><p>Ugh. Now her <em>dog</em> adored him. Kate simply couldn’t win, could she?</p><p> </p><p>Without prompting, Anthony held his hand out to Kate. A gentlemanly gesture she’d expect from even a man like him.</p><p> </p><p>She slapped it away. “I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“The mud on your…” his dark eyes scanned her entire body, “…<em>everywhere</em> says otherwise.”</p><p> </p><p>Nose wrinkling, Kate pushed herself up. Slow and steady, body screaming at her to just stop. To just stop moving all together. But she didn’t, not until she was fully standing.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you still want to,” he gestured to the rest of the estate with his free hand, a mocking edge to the motion, “continue, Kate?”</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely.” To further prove her point, she pushed herself to march ahead. “Wouldn’t think of anything better, in fact.”</p><p> </p><p>Behind her Anthony swore. His footsteps followed, he and Newton catching up with her soon after.</p><p> </p><p>Kate grinned at him. “Don’t you just love the country side?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony glowered at her, not saying a word.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>After walking out to the lake, where the recreational shed sat with lawn games and various sports gear<em>—“We play croquet</em>,” Anthony told her, as she eyed the colored mallets hanging on the shed’s wall<em>, “but usually when it is drier.</em>”—he led her towards the massive garden and outdoor swimming pool.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure Mother would want to give you her own tour of the garden,” Anthony muttered, trudging along passed the hedged walls. Newton waddled beside him, not even sparing a glance to Kate who’d kept pace despite her fall. As they continued their tour, she’d wince every so often, yet did not stop or halt their walk, even when he offered.</p><p> </p><p>Without a doubt, Kate was the most stubborn woman he ever met. Perhaps in other circumstances he’d find her stubbornness attractive or amusing, but when it was directed towards him…he knew it meant trouble.</p><p> </p><p>“I cannot speak of the garden to her level of detail,” he said as an explanation to bypass the garden, expecting Kate to follow along as she done for most of the outdoor tour.</p><p> </p><p>Kate stopped as they passed the tunnel like entrance, curiosity getting the best of her. Cherry blossom trees created the faux tunnel, arching over and together, leading a soft blush pathway into a world of flora and fauna.</p><p> </p><p>“It looks marvelous, even from out here.” She turned back to Anthony. “I’ve only ever seen pictures of it from the outside. It’s almost a dream come true to be this close to it.”</p><p> </p><p>“You garden?”</p><p> </p><p>“I wish. I kill potted plants,” Kate chuckled, “but I adore flowers.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like Edwina?” Anthony asked, backtracking to stand with Kate. Newton nudged into the space between them, happy face darting between the two.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s sharp, thick brows furrowed together. “Edwina does not like flowers. She has terrible allergies to the pollen.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s brain stuttered. What did she mean Edwina was ‘allergic’? For the last four months he’d been sending Edwina weekly bouquets, each a handpicked selection of flowers he’d seen around his mother’s garden in his youth. He’d known his brother-in-law to send Daphne flowers, the same with his father and mother. He was simply acting as others had done before him.</p><p> </p><p>But if he’d been sending his girlfriend flowers, flowers she was allergic to…</p><p> </p><p>“Then what has she done with the flowers I’ve sent her?”</p><p> </p><p>A redness tinged along Kate’s cheekbones, she looking away from him in an instant. Biting her lips together, a sigh puffed through her. “She may have been giving them to…me?” she winced out.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been getting my flowers?” Anthony demanded. He slouched down, attempting to catch her avert gaze. “You’re telling me <em>you</em> are the one getting my flowers?”</p><p> </p><p>“They are technically Edwina’s flowers once they are in her possession and what she does with them after isn’t any of your business,” Kate was quick to prattle out, crossing her arms over her chest. “Haven’t you ever heard of regifting?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nobody regifts flowers,” he told her, unassumed by her uppity-ness. “And it is not regifting—”</p><p> </p><p>“The fact of the matter is you didn’t know Edwina was allergic.” Kate lifted her head, matching his stare with a twinkle of rejoicing spite. “Not my fault I receive the benefits of your mistakes.”</p><p> </p><p>“She never told me she was allergic,” Anthony admitted. In the four months he knew Edwina her allergy never came up.</p><p> </p><p>“Because Edwina is too nice.” Kate’s gaze softened, a gentleness to her. Anthony wondered if this was the Kate most knew, the one who spoke highly of her sister and knew how to use her words appropriately. “She would never say anything ill or mean to someone.”</p><p> </p><p>“But this is an important fact about <em>her</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>“And you were doing something <em>nice</em> for her,” Kate interjected before he could fall into anymore self-criminalizing. “She didn’t want to ruin a nice thing.” She gave another shrug. “If it were me I would have said something right off the bat and I told her to do so.”</p><p> </p><p>“And she didn’t,” Anthony surmised.</p><p> </p><p>“She didn’t,” Kate confirmed, nodding once. “And now I have a lovely new bouquet for my kitchen table every week!”</p><p> </p><p>“How wonderful,” he deadpanned.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh come on, don’t look so sour.” Kate nudged him. Anthony scowled at her, but it only seemed to make her mocking smile wider. “<em>Someone</em> is enjoying the flowers!”</p><p> </p><p>“Not the person I intended,” he muttered, his mood taking a dive from bad to worse. He turned on his heel and resumed their trek. Newton began to waddle again, happy to trotting along. Kate soon matched up with his pace, as though she were never getting left behind in the first place. She could never fall behind, despite her height, she always walking with such purpose and upbeat pace. One would think she was in a hurry or walking a marathon, but it was simply how Kate traveled through the world.</p><p> </p><p>“I do have to say the bouquet with the tulips was my favorite,” she said clasping her hands to her chest like a giddy little girl, eyes fluttering. “And the notes—”</p><p> </p><p>He whirled on her, eyes ablaze. “<em>You read the notes</em>?” he roared.</p><p> </p><p>Newton whimpered.</p><p> </p><p>Kate froze, eyes wide. Then—“Yes, yes I did. You are not the poet in the family, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Her cringe was like a stab in the gut.</p><p> </p><p>God, he <em>hated</em> her.</p><p> </p><p>He hated her with every fiber of his being.</p><p> </p><p>He hated her <em>so much</em> he could—</p><p> </p><p>“Brother, is that you?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony and Kate’s head whipped to call, both stunned to find another person so close by.</p><p> </p><p>Outside the pool house, weekender bag thrown over his shoulder, was Benedict. Tossing his bag at the pool house door, he jogged over to the two, all spry and grinning.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony!” His brother brought him into a hug, seemingly unaware of the near bloodbath that was about to transpire between Anthony and Kate. “It’s so good to see you!”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict pulled away, eyes latching excitedly to Kate before yanking her into a group hug. Kate’s face was immediately smushed into Anthony’s chest, her chin digging into him. He winced at the rough impact and the pressure of the unexpected bone crushing hug. His younger brother always did have a way of underestimating his strength and a nagging need for affection.</p><p> </p><p>“You must be Edwina. To be honest we have heard <em>nothing</em> about you, but it is no surprise considering Anthony’s track record.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s head popped up, eyes narrowing on Anthony. “‘Track record’ you say?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict released the two, Kate leaping away from Anthony like he head the plague. He rolled his eyes at her.</p><p> </p><p>She stuck her tongue out at him in a flash. He had half the mind to snatch her tongue and hold it captive. Serves her right.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict once again did not seem to read the exchange as animosity, but rather foreplay, laughing at the two. “Oh yeah, you must know he—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony dropped a hand on Benedict’s shoulder, giving him a warning squeeze. “You are mistaken brother,” he stressed, “this isn’t Edwina. This is her sister, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict mouth hung open, his next words swallowed back. “Oh, <em>sister</em>. Forgot there was a sister. My apologies. I just expected Edwina to arrive when we all did.”</p><p> </p><p>“She has an internship,” Kate told him, “a highly prestigious one that she wouldn’t give up for anything.” Her eyes slid over to Anthony. “Not even a man.”</p><p> </p><p>“A career woman!” Benedict said with an easy grin. “Bit of a change of pace for you, isn’t it Anthony? You always did have a thing for the artsy, creative ones, eh?” He paused, ruminating as Anthony began to fume. “There was the poet Angela. Then the singer Maria. Oh and who can forget the cellist Siena—”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you Benedict for a lovely trip down memory lane that was <em>not</em> necessary in the slightest,” Anthony interrupted in a swoop before Benedict’s loose lips could continue on any further.</p><p> </p><p>“Right…” Benedict bit his lips together, finally noticing the uncomfortable tension between Kate and Anthony. He jutted his thumb behind him. “You know what? I am going to go back to the studio and I’ll see you at dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait—are you telling me we missed lunch?” Anthony asked, catching his brother before he could depart.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Mother moved it up,” Benedict answered, walking backwards, “she said you wouldn’t mind.” Giving an unbothered shrug, his brother hurried back to the pool house, giving a final salute of farewell.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony simply stared at where his brother stood. Unmoving.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Does nobody respect a damn schedule in this damn house</em>!” he shouted, needing to get the aggression out before it killed him.</p><p> </p><p>Kate yelped, hands slapping on her mouth, stunned she even made a sound.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry—sorry. I know…you are having a moment, so I am just—” She glanced around, looking for anywhere to leave. Which was <em>everywhere</em> considering they were outside. Yet she stayed rooted, seemingly unsure of what to do with him. “I’ll just…” She threw on her jacket’s hood and pulled the drawstrings attached, cinching her face closed. “Pretend I’m not here!” came her muffled order.</p><p> </p><p>She looked ridiculous. Deranged. Like a silly little girl.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony snorted before he could stop himself.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t going to laugh. He was not going to grant her lame efforts with a laugh. No. Absolutely n—</p><p> </p><p>The laugh bubbled out him.</p><p> </p><p>“Did I just hear what I think I heard?” Kate asked, her lips slightly peeking out from the little gap of the cinch. “Laughter from His Royal Grumpiness? Has the hell froze over?”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” he huffed out, smothering another bout of laughter. “Stop that. You look deranged.”</p><p> </p><p>“I look like I was trying to respect your privacy.” She told him primly, releasing the drawstrings and pushed back her hood.</p><p> </p><p>The static of the hood’s lining left her wavy, shoulder length hair mused. Her once pinned back hair fell out of place, strands falling into her face. Huffing, she removed the useless clips and placed them in her pocket. Anthony understood Kate was a practical woman for the most part, but seeing her fuss with the clips made him wonder why she bothered with pulling back her hair at all. How it fell…how the strands naturally framed her face, it made her all the more captivating.</p><p> </p><p>“What? Do I have mud on my face?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hadn’t even realize he was staring until she uttered those words.</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head, clearing his throat. “Let’s finish the tour.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lead the way, <em>sir</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Her use of ‘sir’ caused his lips to twitch again.</p><p> </p><p>But he pushed the urge down. He didn’t need a repeat of what had just happened.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anthony had been brisk while showing her the rest of the outdoor amenities. In the span of one breath she learned the pool house wasn’t actually a pool house, instead the cottage-like structure was Benedict’s studio, the man an artist.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Kate asked, earning an annoyed glanced from Anthony. “I’d love to pick his brain about some pieces.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am sure you two will have plenty to talk about,” her host muttered, not at all delighted at the thought of her speaking with Benedict.</p><p> </p><p>Not that she was surprised; that particular brother seemed to know a great deal about Anthony’s love life in comparison to some of the other Bridgertons. Based on what she’d briefly seen, she assumed this was due to his proximity to Anthony’s age. While she’d only had one sister, Kate figured it was easier to bond with a sibling only a few years younger rather than a decade.</p><p> </p><p>“Last I’d seen he does have watercolors at his disposal,” Anthony said, trudging up the back porch stairs to the house’s mudroom on the backside.</p><p> </p><p>Kate perked. “Watercolors? That’s my—”</p><p> </p><p>“—favorite medium,” he finished, pausing before the mudroom’s door. “I know.”</p><p> </p><p>She blinked, at a loss for words.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t expect Anthony to know this about her.</p><p> </p><p>She really didn’t expect him to know anything about her, least of all her favorite medium.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t know you knew,” Kate said, suddenly feeling warm.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony opened his mouth, probably a smart retort on his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Instead his words came softer, a sliver of a gentle man behind the huffing and puffing revealed. “I know a great deal about you, Kate. Probably more than you’d believe.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes spoke of potential tenderness. Key word: potential. Because a sharp spike of mischief rose in his eyes. As though he could not help himself from gloating.</p><p> </p><p><em>Oh</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She knew exactly what he was doing, the conniving bastard.</p><p> </p><p>Kate leaned back from him a stubborn frown forming. “I’m not going to fall for this.” She motioned to all of him.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you talking about?” he asked, smirking.</p><p> </p><p>Gah! He was smirking. The devil, devil man.</p><p> </p><p>“This soft, sweet man character you are trying to play with me!”</p><p> </p><p>Thrilled shock marred his face. “I am not playing!”</p><p> </p><p>“Your smirk says it all!” she scoffed.</p><p> </p><p>“I cannot control how my face reacts,” he told, smirk still there and growing wider. “I have no clue what you are talking about, dear Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t ‘dear Kate’ me like we are old friends or loving siblings,” she warned, hands clenching at her sides. “We are nothing even close to that!”</p><p> </p><p>“You wound me, dear Kate,” he clutched his chest, proud of himself. “How dare you wound your future brother-in-law?”</p><p> </p><p>He just had to go there, didn’t he?</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” she hissed, having enough of him for one morning. She opened the mudroom door, stomping to clear off any mud she might trail in.</p><p> </p><p>“Not fun to be taunted is it?” Anthony asked, following after her. He led Newton along, grabbing an old towel hanging in the room. Crouching down, he dried off her dog, carefully removing any caked dirt.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you hated dogs?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony paused cleaning Newton’s right paw. “I never said that.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry. Dislike,” she shrugged, “or indifference or whatever it was I was supposed to infer with the vague, practically nonexistent, context clues you gave me.”</p><p> </p><p>His teeth clenched, face taking that familiar constipated look he often had in photos. “I don’t hate dogs. Or dislike them. We had dogs growing up.” Finishing cleaning Newton’s paws, Anthony stood back up, leash still in his hand. “My father loved dogs. At one point we had about…five?” His eyes squinted in thought, attempting to reach into his memory. “We had them well into my teens until each passed.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Kate said genuinely.</p><p> </p><p>“It happens. That’s the nature of having a pet,” he answered back, almost mechanical. As though he had to repeatedly tell himself so for years. “He planned on adopting more for my younger siblings.” He twisted and untwisted the leash in his hand before holding it out to Kate. “Then he died.”</p><p> </p><p>For once she kept her mouth shut and accepted the leash.</p><p> </p><p>Silence passed between the two, neither sure of where they went from here.</p><p> </p><p>“I have never told anyone that,” Anthony confessed, a tense panic threading through his shoulders. “I don’t know why…” He blinked, blundered and stunned.</p><p> </p><p>“I have one of those faces,” Kate supplied. “Where people just saying things—”</p><p> </p><p>“No you don’t,” Anthony rolled his eyes, shaking his head at her. Whatever emotional crisis he was on the precipice of vanished in the wake of an opportunity to mock her. “You do not look like tragic backstory confidant. Quite the opposite, actually.”</p><p> </p><p>“Plenty of people have confessed their dark secrets to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Name one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um…” Kate didn’t have one to name. “You don’t know them,” she said instead. “What use is it to name someone when you don’t even know them.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s the use of arguing when you know you are lying through your teeth,” he shot back, shrugging of his jacket. He hung it up before turning to Kate, waiting for her windbreaker. She took off the muddy thing, wincing when she caught sight of the back. “I’ll have the housekeeper clean it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can clean it.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know how to clean mud off?” he asked, not believing her an ounce.</p><p> </p><p>“Believe it or not, I’m a country girl at heart,” she told him. “My family actually lived in a cottage not too far from here when I was younger. Before my dad passed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Edwina mentioned your father…” Anthony began before stopping himself. He tried again, this time an understanding in his eyes. “I—”</p><p> </p><p>Across the house, the front banged open. “<em>Sorry!” </em>More shuffling sounded, the door banging again. “<em>Sorry! Again!”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p><em>“Someone go help Eloise!” </em>Violet’s muffled voice traveled from the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p><em>“I’m on it!”</em> Colin’s helpful shout followed. <em>“My god did you pack all of your flat in there?”</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oi! Shut it!”</em></p><p> </p><p>Another slam of the door reverberated.</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise is here,” Anthony said, looking between Kate and the door out to the back corridor. “I going to need see what she is on about.” Yet he did not make a move for the door, simply staring at the door with dread. Kate could not blame him.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Quiet, Eloise! We have guests</em>!” Daphne’s voice called out.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>So? I have bags to carry and doors to open</em>!” The door slammed—this time it sounded as though it collided with the sideboard behind it.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Eloise</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate held back a snicker, pressing her knuckles to her mouth. “Are they always—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Anthony answered before she could finish her sentence. “Whatever it is, yes.” He glanced back to the door, a new urgency to him. “I’m going to go check on them. It’s been too quiet for too long.”</p><p> </p><p>It had only been quiet for a minute, but then again the Bridgerton’s were not the quiet sort.</p><p> </p><p>“Lead the way,” Kate insisted, not wanting to be stuck alone with Anthony any longer. Another moment by themselves and they could have had a true heart to heart on their hands, and she very well couldn’t detest someone she might actually have empathy for. It wasn’t in her nature.</p><p> </p><p>Gruff, he led the way out of the mudroom, through a long corridor. The corridors stretch and location at the back of the house indicated it must have at one point been the servants entrance and quarters. Doors were closed off, yet one doorway led to a kitchen, a halfway door allowing those who passed to see in.</p><p> </p><p>Newton could not help but sniff the air when they passed, Kate tugging him until he went back to side.</p><p> </p><p>Along the walls she caught family photographs from Bridgertons old and new. Birthdays, Christmases, Easters, and graduations lined the walls. However, at the end, by the back curve of the stairs one particular photo caught her attention.</p><p> </p><p>It was a boy and a man. Father and son, dressed in matching jerseys at a football game. Eyeing the boy curiously, it took a matter of seconds for Kate to recognize the dark eyes.</p><p> </p><p>It was Anthony. With his father.</p><p> </p><p>Yet the picture was tucked away in rarely used corridor, forced to be forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you coming?” Anthony called out, noticing she had not been following as he thought.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Kate left the picture, she and Newton resuming their pace. “I was taking my time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Taking your time?” he parroted back. “There is nothing of interest down there.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you think. You’ve been here all your life. I haven’t,” she reminded him, catching up to his step</p><p> </p><p>Whatever retort he had planned was gone in the light of the mess laid out in the foyer.</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise! What is all this?”</p><p> </p><p>Suitcases were sprawled out across the floor, along with several other bags. The girl in question, a short young woman with blunt fringe and choppy hair, popped up from where she was crouched. “Just a few things. Like laundry and books and other nick-nacks.” She stood up from where she struggled to drag a heavy bag to the foot of the stairs. “Nothing to worry about, brother.”</p><p> </p><p>“She was kicked out of her flat,” Daphne announced unceremoniously as she reentered the house, holding a small box labeled BOOKS.</p><p> </p><p>“I was not kicked out,” Eloise pushed back her fringe, the strands standing up haphazardly. “I chose to leave. It was a <em>choice</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“A terrible choice,” Daphne told her, setting the box down. She turned to Anthony, mouth in a firm line. “Colin and Penelope are helping unload her belongings.”</p><p> </p><p>“How much can one woman accumulate?” Anthony muttered, side stepping the mess his sister created.</p><p> </p><p>“You’d be surprised,” Kate told him. “Once had a flatmate who somehow quadrupled her wardrobe in less than a month.”</p><p> </p><p>“That is terrifying.”</p><p> </p><p>“At least you didn’t have to see it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does Mother know?” Anthony asked, heading straight to his middle sister.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise pursed her lips, squinting up at him. “You see, dear brother of mine…does anyone know anything?” She gave a small shrug, clasping her hands together.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony remained unamused, mouth souring into a disgruntled frown.</p><p> </p><p>“She does not,” Eloise finally answered. “And I’d like to keep it that way until I find a new place—”</p><p> </p><p>“With this many witnesses?” he countered. Biting her lips together, Kate took one step back, prepared to slip away from the impending family drama. “<em>You stay right there</em>,” Anthony shot back to her, pointing her out, somehow catching her slight of foot out of the corner of his eye. Kate stepped back up, now knowing there was no way to flee when Anthony Bridgerton was around. “With myself, Daphne, and Colin already knowing the situation, not to mention our guests. You want us to lie for you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you have to do that?” Eloise grumbled, slumping. “Answering with a question? It gets very tiresome.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s face reddened, looking like he was ready snap anything in reach in half. Eloise didn’t look afraid of her eldest brother in the slightest, if anything, put out by his reaction.</p><p> </p><p>“Why on Earth do you have a book on botany?” Daphne asked, breaking the stare down between her brother and sister. She held the book in question up, it resting at the top of the BOOKS box.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I want to grow a garden!” Eloise declared, reeling back to her sister, reaching for the book.</p><p> </p><p>“Growing a garden with your current homeless status seems a bit ambitious,” Colin said, making his presence known. Behind him a petite girl with fiery auburn hair followed, she carrying small crate of potted plants. “But I support you wholeheartedly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Eloise said blankly as she snatched the book back from Daphne. “Now please, everyone just do me a favor and keep this—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Eloise!”</em> Violet called from the kitchen. “<em>I’ll be there in a moment dear. I just need to pop the biscuits in the oven!”</em></p><p> </p><p>Eloise’s nose wrinkled, her eyes darting between Daphne and Anthony. “Who was that? She sounds like our mother, but she’s <em>baking</em>?” she hissed the word, utterly confused.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a new thing. We aren’t questioning it,” Colin answered. “But Mama might be having a break down—”</p><p> </p><p>“She is not having a break down!” Daphne yelped, offended for her mother. “She’s just…”</p><p> </p><p>“Having a break down?” Eloise finished. “I agree with C here D. Break down seems like the answer.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t call us by our letters,” Anthony finally blundered out, “you know Mother hates that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you mean <em>you</em> hate that?” Daphne shot back. “I have never heard Mother—”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut it! All of you,” Anthony bellowed before dropping his voice an octave lower, “everyone grab something and get this shit upstairs! <em>Now</em>!” he gritted out.</p><p> </p><p>Without needing anymore prompting all the Bridgerton’s in the foyer scurried about. Eloise, Daphne, Colin, and Auburn Hair climbed up the stairs with each of their arms full. Once they were gone they were seemingly replaced with Simon, Hyacinth, and Gregory, the three grabbing the last lingering suitcases and bags. With just a couple of boxes left, Anthony grabbed one and shoved it into Kate’s arms.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t just stand there, help,” he ordered.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, okay!” Juggling both Newton’s leash and the BOOK box, Kate climbed up the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was quick to catch up with her, also holding box, one labeled DVDS/CDS. “You are now sworn to secrecy. A Bridgerton Sibling Secret is kept until death, or until the poor soul confesses. The latter usually happens.”</p><p> </p><p>“Keep a secret about what?” Kate asked, feigning confusion. “I saw nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s lips twitched…a smile budged for a second.</p><p> </p><p>Then the smile disappeared. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>SO MUCH HAPPENED. LIKE I AM SORRY IT WAS LONG BUT I COULD NOT HELP MYSELF. </p><p>Side Note: Whenever I mention football, I am indeed talking about European football (aka soccer). </p><p>I cannot promise updates will be this fast going forward; I had time and got a little writing happy these last few days, hahaha.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Classic Earth Signs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Mind the tags! Added a couple! Some take effect this chapter!</p><p>I am shook and in awe of the love this story has received over the last few days. Thank you so much for the support! I appreciate every single one of you!</p><p>Typos will be fixed later!</p><p>Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Kate came downstairs for dinner, she paused upon seeing the large, <em>empty</em> dining table.</p><p> </p><p>No one had yet to come down since the scramble to hide Eloise’s belongings, all dashing off to their own corners of the house. Even Anthony had done the same, though not without escorting her to the Rose Room first.</p><p> </p><p>A small, quaint room with large windows and faint pink botanica wallpaper on the walls. Small rose decals danced in simple, elegant patterns, the reason behind the room’s moniker. There was even a small dog bed for Newton tucked into what would be a perfect sunbathing corner if it had not been overcast.</p><p> </p><p>For most of the afternoon she unpacked and made herself at home. Every once in a while a yelp or a screech followed by brief, light hearted bickering echoed in the house; Kate quickly learned it was simply the Bridgerton siblings bothering one another and getting under each other’s skins, as siblings did.</p><p> </p><p>When she was told dinner would be half past six, Kate expected at least some of the family to be lingering around. Not twelve empty chairs.</p><p> </p><p>Believing she was maybe too early, Kate began to leave—</p><p> </p><p>Only for Hyacinth and Gregory to come barreling in, right past her.</p><p> </p><p>“…You’d think she’d be okay with me taking the sweater since she honestly has no room in her wardrobe,” Hyacinth bemoaned, not stopping until she got to the middle seat of the long rectangular table, her brother mirroring her on the other side. “But she nearly blew a gasket!”</p><p> </p><p>The two sat down, Gregory shrugging at Hyacinth. “Maybe she likes that sweater?”</p><p> </p><p>“An old raggedy sweater that I have never seen her wear in my life?” Hyacinth eyebrows shot up. “It’s not Eloise’s style.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you want it if it’s so raggedy?”</p><p> </p><p>“To upcycle it, of course. It helps the planet, Gregory.”</p><p> </p><p>Letting the siblings chat, Kate moved to sit in the seat on Hyacinth’s left.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s Simon’s seat,” the girl uttered, finally noticing her.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Kate moved down one to the left, “how about—”</p><p> </p><p>“Daphne’s,” Gregory chimed in, “and Mama sits at the head of the table so don’t even think about it.”</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, Kate walked around the table to the other side. Before she could even ask, the two stared at her with identical scrunched noses. “What’s wrong with this one?”</p><p> </p><p>“Benedict is Mama’s favorite dinner conversationalist. He sits there,” Gregory told her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate motioned to the chair beside him. “And let me guess—Eloise’s seat?”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth shook her head. “Nope. Eloise sits on the other side of me. That’s Francesca’s.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s brows furrowed. There was <em>another</em> Bridgerton. They were so hard to keep track of. Continuing her round of silent musical chairs, she bypassed Gregory’s seat to the one on his left.</p><p> </p><p>“No one, but we are saving it for Penelope because Colin always sits on Anthony’s right, and we want to make sure Penelope sits beside Colin.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because…?” Kate trailed off, her words prompting the two to answer. She’d work with enough teenagers in her life to know when they were up to mischief. Gregory and Hyacinth were no different than her Year 5 and 6 students. “Come on you two, there has to be a reason.”</p><p> </p><p>The two teens shared a silent, conspiring glance before nodding.</p><p> </p><p>“We want Penelope and Colin to get together,” Hyacinth explained, keeping her voice low for no one else to hear. “They’ve been in love since forever.”</p><p> </p><p>“Forever,” Gregory emphasized. “We are simply tired of the blushing and glances and want our brother to get his head out of his arse.”</p><p> </p><p>“How kind of you,” Kate said, the sarcasm going over the two proud teens.</p><p> </p><p>“We like to see ourselves as chaotic good.” Hyacinth looked up wistfully to the crystal chandelier above them. “Helping the less fortunate in our family.”</p><p> </p><p>“And Colin is less fortunate?” Kate asked attempting to see the world through the youngest Bridgertons’ lens.</p><p> </p><p>“Colin is sweet,” Gregory stated gravely, “but can be a colossal idiot. All Bridgertons born pre-2000 are capable of various levels of idiocy.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you two are not?” Kate was amused by their antics, finding Hyacinth and Gregory to be sweet in their own conniving way.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course not.” Hyacinth shook her head. “If anything we are the genius hive-mind in the family.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then can your hive-mind tell me where I can sit for dinner?” Kate asked, bringing an end to their conversation in the nick of time as Daphne and Simon entered the dining room. The couple took the seats the diabolical duo had claimed they would. From down the table Daphne waved to Kate, happy to see her.</p><p> </p><p>“That one.” Hyacinth pointed to the empty chair to the left of the other head of the table, only two seats away from her. “That one can be yours, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” She finished her near complete walk around the table, taking the seat Hyacinth indicated.</p><p> </p><p>Once she sat down, the rest of the Bridgertons came flooding into the room in clusters.</p><p> </p><p>“I know something is wrong, dear sister,” Benedict said to Eloise, the two entering together, mid-conversation. “You know you can tell me anything—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d rather not,” the young woman quipped, marching around the table. She plopped down in the seat between Kate and Hyacinth.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict stuck his tongue out to her. “You will tell me, El!”</p><p> </p><p>“I will not, you nosey prick,” Eloise shot back.</p><p> </p><p>“Language, Eloise!” Anthony scolded upon entering the room, however his eyes remained glued to his phone, no doubt typing away an email. Edwina mentioned Anthony had a workaholic streak, a micromanager at heart.</p><p> </p><p>Somehow Anthony avoided bumping into anything, even Colin and Penelope who came from kitchen. A buttered biscuit was in the younger Bridgerton’s hand, he sneaking a snack before dinner.</p><p> </p><p>Yet it did not last long.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony snatched the biscuit from his brother. “Seriously Colin? We are going to have dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin pouted, taking the biscuit back and popping it in his mouth. “And I am twenty-eight, not <em>eight</em> brother,” he mumbled through a mouthful. “I don’t need you to scold me—”</p><p> </p><p>“Colin! We are about to eat. No snacking.” Violet gave her own scolding when she entered the dining room.</p><p> </p><p>Seeing their mother, all the Bridgertons froze and conversation ceased.</p><p> </p><p>Though Kate did not understand why. Nothing looked amiss with Violet; she looked like any sort of average mum. Hair pulled back, stained and floured apron on, and dressed comfortably for working in the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was the first to break the silence. “Mother…why are you wearing an apron?”</p><p> </p><p>“To cook of course!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>She</em> made the dinner?” Eloise whispered. “Do we need to call the medics or—”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut it!” Daphne chucked a scrunched up napkin at her sister. Only to miss and hit Kate’s shoulder. “Oh, sorry!”</p><p> </p><p>“But what about the cook?” Anthony asked, ignoring his sister’s bickering. “We have our usual cook—"</p><p> </p><p>“I put good old Maggie on standby,” Violet said, untying her apron. “Told her I’d call her in advance when we needed her for parties—”</p><p> </p><p>“Parties?” Anthony echoed, not at all pleased with the idea. “As in <em>plural</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Or when we invite the neighbors for dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>“Neighbors?” he repeated back, utterly puzzled by this development. “What are you talking about? None of this is in the schedule, Mother.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet neatly folded her apron as she walked to the head of the table. “Everyone sit down. You too, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>Begrudgingly all standing parties took their seats. When Anthony sat down beside Kate, he paused, mouth going sour. “Why are you sitting there?”</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t she your guest?” Eloise budged in, leaning over Kate towards her brother. “Why wouldn’t she sit next to you?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s jaw tightened, his wide, aggravated eyes landing on his sister. “This is an A and K conversation, E your way out of it.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate snorted, slapping her hand over mouth and nose a second too late.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise, on the other hand, scoffed. “That’s not how the saying goes, you nimrod.”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>know</em> how the saying goes, Eloise,” Anthony spat.</p><p> </p><p>“Children!” Violet called out, finally garnering the entire tables attention. She stood tall at the head, smiling at each the faces surrounding her. “As you know we are now officially on our summer holiday.” Small cheers came from some of the siblings, though most remained quiet, perhaps concerned for their mother. “We’ve been doing summer holiday the same for nearly two decades,” Violet paused, blinking as though overcame with emotion, “which is why I think we should start to do things differently this year.”</p><p> </p><p>Beside Kate, Anthony tensed. “What does she mean <em>differently</em>?” he muttered to himself.</p><p> </p><p>“You are all fully grown, most of you adults,” Violet continued, “yet we spend a month here mourning, doing very little when we should be celebrating our time together and getting to know each other better!” She braced her hands on the back of her chair, beaming with excitement. “This means we will take turns making dinner! We’re going to throw parties like we use to. Invite the neighbors and our family friends over to spend time here with us. Go out to the village together, see what’s new. We are going to have <em>fun</em> because it is about time we start having fun together during our summer holiday rather than be sad.”</p><p> </p><p>No one said anything, as though too afraid to utter a word against their mother’s wishes.</p><p> </p><p>“I just…” Violet sighed, eyes darting to her children, almost pleading. “I feel like I don’t even know my own children anymore. The people you have become. All of you with your own lives…I want to fix that. Starting now.” Nodding to herself, her pleasant smile returned. “So who’s going to help me bring out the food for dinner?”</p><p> </p><p>“I will,” Daphne stood up.</p><p> </p><p>“I as well,” Simon said, joining his wife.</p><p> </p><p>“Me too,” Benedict was quick to chime in.</p><p> </p><p>“Same.” Colin shot up, following his mother and siblings into the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Silence befell the table once they left.</p><p> </p><p>“I never knew she felt that way,” Anthony muttered, more subdue. He stood up, seeming beside himself. “I’m going to—”</p><p> </p><p>The front door slammed open, those remaining at the table jumping. Boots thudded against floor rapidly. Within seconds a hooded figure stood in the dinning room entryway, dripping water on the ground and massive suitcase rolling to a stop beside them.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Did no one care to pick me up from the train station</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Horror washed over Anthony’s face. “<em>Fuck</em>,” he cursed. His eyes squeezed shut, a fisted hand thumping against his forehead. The hand flattened, smearing over his face, he looking far older than his thirty-five years. “I forgot about Francesca.”</p><p> </p><p>The figure’s hood ripped off, revealing a girl with long dark curls and wet make-up running down her face. Dark hair, bright eyes, and a Bridgerton air of confidence summarize the girl at first glance. Her head whipped around to each family member at the table. “Is anyone going to answer?”</p><p> </p><p>Realizing he had no choice but to address his sister, Anthony slowly walked over to her. “Franny—” He squinted at the water trailing and dripping from her to the floor. Mud caked her boots and luggage. “Did you walk here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Francesca screeched, furious. “I did! Did it ever occur to anyone to call me? To see where I was? How I was doing?”</p><p> </p><p>A poorly muffled snicker broke from the table.</p><p> </p><p>Kate lightly slapped Eloise’s arm, warning her to stop her snickering, except it only made the situation worse. The girl wheezed through her suppressed laughter, shoulders hunching forward in an effort to keep it all in. “I’m sorry, but this is fucking hilarious!” Eloise cackled, unable to stop laughing.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ugh</em>!” Francesca yelped, glaring at her old sister. “<em>I hate this family</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>In a whirl, the sopping girl marched out of the room and up the stairs, her stomping and grumbling heard until she disappeared. A moment later her bedroom door slammed.</p><p> </p><p>This only caused Eloise’s laughter to increase, Hyacinth and Gregory succumbing to their own fitful giggles as well.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop it!” Anthony ordered to the three. “I said ‘stop it’!” His lips twitched—the twitch Kate was beginning to dub as the ‘Anthony trying his best not to laugh’ twitch.</p><p> </p><p>Even Penelope giggled, though she tried her best to hide it behind her hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on Anthony,” Eloise said between her bouts, “you want to laugh too!”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” he swallowed. “I don’t. It is terrible what…” He shook his head, swallowing again. “It is terrible what hap—” His eyes landed on Kate, who was also now struggling to contain her chuckles, the laughter at the table contagious. “Not you too!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Kate sputtered, trying her best. “But—but it was like a scene from a horror film.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s face screwed up as he pushed down the urge to laugh. “Oh screw all of you!” He shook his head, running after his sister. “<em>Francesca</em>! I’m sorry I forgot to send a driver!” Anthony called out to his sister, his voice carrying through the house even as he went out of sight. “Franny!”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise soon caught her breath, she turning to Kate with a giddy smile. “I like you. I always knew I’d like you. Whenever Ed brought you up…” She grinned, delighted by the mere presence of Kate. “It’s like meeting a celebrity, the Great Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh I don’t know about that…” Kate murmured. With how both Eloise and Anthony spoke of her, Kate maybe needed to tell Edwina to tone her sisterly love down a bit. She didn’t need anyone’s expectations of her to be any higher than necessary.</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously, I’m glad you came,” Eloise told her. “Based on what Ed told me, I knew you’d fit in like a glove here.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s awfully kind of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“It doesn’t happen all the time,” Gregory interjected. “Take Eloise’s compliments while you can.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oi! Shut it.”</p><p> </p><p>By the time everyone once again sat down for dinner—sans Francesca who refused to leave her room—it was as if the Bridgerton family’s emotional pre-dinner rollercoaster never happened.  </p><p> </p><p>Honestly, it gave Kate whiplash.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next morning was by far a more subdue affair in comparison to last evening’s dinner.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was more than grateful for the change. He wasn’t too sure if he could handle another one of his mother’s emotional speeches or one of his siblings breaking into a hissy fit. There was only so much one man could take.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find no one else in the dining room when he passed through. Most of his siblings preferred to sleep in during holiday, none of them naturally early risers. The only person he bumped into on holiday mornings was Simon, and more often than not it was because the man wanted to cram in as much work as possible before Daphne woke for the day.</p><p> </p><p>But even Simon wouldn’t wake early on the first full day of holiday.</p><p> </p><p>Which was why Anthony was surprised to hear muffled cursing in the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“Where the hell is it…”</p><p> </p><p>Dressed in her now clean windbreaker and wellingtons, Kate rummaged through the cupboards.</p><p> </p><p>“There has to be coffee somewhere around here, Newton,” she told the dog, he sitting in the corner of the kitchen with a rawhide chew between his teeth. “They wouldn’t just not have any would they?” She glanced down at him, nose wrinkling. “I know. Anthony does seem like the morning coffee person. Like he’d go into a grumpy conniption without it.”</p><p> </p><p>Hearing his name from her lips, Anthony leaned against the doorway. He didn’t step any further, content to watch her from a distance…</p><p> </p><p>Watching how she moved around the kitchen with authority. Like she owned it rather than a guest, least of all one who’d only been there twenty-four hours. Opening and closing cupboards, moving various groceries and cans aside in her hunt. The muttered and quiet curses when she came up short. She was a woman on a mission. Part of Anthony found this aspect of Kate intriguing, while the other feared she’d make a mess in her haste. Or worse, slip and fall again.</p><p> </p><p>Once she checked all the spots within her reach, she pushed herself up on the counter, opening up the higher cupboards.</p><p> </p><p>“Unless they are all purely tea people, which I understand. Tea is great…but nothing beats a cup of coffee in the morning, am I right, boy?”</p><p> </p><p>“The coffee is in the panty.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate yelped, nearly falling off the counter. Grabbing the closest cupboard door, she righted herself before any mishap could happen. “My god, you frightened me.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stepped further into the kitchen, making his way over to the walk-in pantry. “Didn’t expect anyone else to be up at this time.” His eyes darted to the clock above the sink. Just half past six in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m an early riser,” she huffed, easing herself down from the counter—<em>thank god</em>. “Always have been.”</p><p> </p><p>“How long have you been up?”</p><p> </p><p>She shared a look with Newton. “Maybe since five-thirty?</p><p> </p><p>His eyebrows shot up, though didn’t remark on the early hour. He hadn’t heard her roaming around earlier that morning, a surprising fact considering the ancient walls were paper thin. Spotting the coffee grounds tucked away on it’s usual spot on the pantry shelf, Anthony grabbed the container. He made his way over to the coffee pot, Kate lingering to the side as she waited for him.</p><p> </p><p>“Newton and I already went out for our morning walk,” she said watching as he poured out the grounds into the machine’s filter. “I can safely say there was no puddle action this time.”</p><p> </p><p>God, she was too loud and in-motion for such an early hour. He wouldn’t go as far to say Kate was perky—because nothing about Kate was perky, except for maybe her…</p><p> </p><p>Anthony shoved the thought away. He wasn’t going to go <em>there</em>. This was Edwina’s sister. Edwina, who he was dating and had every intention of proposing to in a few weeks’ time.</p><p> </p><p>“So you took my advice and commanded him,” he remarked, pressing the ‘ON’ button on the machine.</p><p> </p><p>“I did no such thing,” Kate insisted, leaning back against the counter. “Believe it or not, Newton does listen to me when you aren’t around.” The coffee machine soon came to life, the groan and drip filling the rather quiet kitchen. She made her way to the right cupboard for once and grabbed two mismatched mugs—one black and one pink—from their collection. “Isn’t that right, Newt?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony merely glanced at the corgi; the beast paid no mind to them as he happily chewed away on his treat. He was none the wiser to the conversation before him as Anthony expected.</p><p> </p><p>Silence fell over the two once more. Both watched the drip of the coffee pot with rapt interest. The one thing keeping them together in this room.</p><p> </p><p>But the silence unnerved Anthony. In the day he’d known Kate, he learned she wasn’t the silent sort. She always had an opinion on something or the other.</p><p> </p><p>He also learned he apparently had an opinion on anything <em>she</em> had an opinion on. Even on things that never interested him before.</p><p> </p><p>Strange revelation indeed.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes drifted to the window. Water droplets ran together as the wind began to set in, previous night’s rainstorm hopefully beginning to drift away.</p><p> </p><p>“Big rain storm last night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” Kate lifted her head from the dripping coffee. “Storm?”</p><p> </p><p>“Last night.” Anthony nodded to the window. She followed his direction, a pensiveness settling over her as the morning’s light sprinkle resumed.</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” she said not at all engaged with the topic. “Rain storm,” she tested the phrase. She seemed rather tense on the subject. Bothered.</p><p> </p><p>“Not a fan?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What</em>?” she practically snapped, eyes wide.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s brows pinched. “Not a fan of the rain?” he repeated, already exasperated with her. Kate was being weird. Not her nuisance level of weird, but average-odd brand of weird.</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose,” she finally edged out. “Never been a fan of the rain. More of a sun person. Classic Taurus.”</p><p> </p><p>He found a mocking smirk pulling on his lips. “You believe in astrology?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s batshit,” she answered, shaking her head, “but it’s fun to read.” Her curious eyes darted to him, brimming with a new idea. “What sign are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony wasn’t going to play into this astrology nonsense. During her teens, Daphne had gone through a <em>deep</em> astrology phase. She even went as far as to email the entire family their daily horoscopes. He read them, because he was a good older brother and knew Daff would ask him his thoughts, but he never gave the drivel any levity. Otherwise, he never spared astrology another glance. “I don’t know. I’ve never entertained that rubbish.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then when’s your birthday?” Kate pressed.</p><p> </p><p>He stared down at her, rubbing at the linger sleep in his eyes. “I’m not—”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me,” she egged, her phone out and opened on the internet. “Tell me or I am going to find one of your siblings and force them to tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>He snorted. “You wouldn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“I would,” she shot back.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t need any of his siblings grumbling about being woken up. So Anthony indulged Kate. “September 17<sup>th</sup>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah! A Virgo!” She chuckled down at her phone screen, apparently finding his sign to be amusing. “No wonder you are the way you are, fellow Earth sign.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” He leaned over, trying to catch a peek of her screen.</p><p> </p><p>Kate dodged him, spinning around so she faced him rather than stand by his side. “‘Virgos are perfectionist,’” she grinned, eyes leaping from the screen to him, “that’s literally the first sentence!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not a perfectionist.”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you met yourself?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony gritted his teeth. She was a guest. Kate was a guest and he could not kill her. Especially since she was Edwina’s sister and he needed to not kill his future sister-in-law because that would be very awkward and unbecoming.</p><p> </p><p>“‘They are critical and detail oriented’,” Kate continued to read off, “this <em>does</em> sound like someone I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay I get it,” Anthony muttered, the coffee machine starting to beep, “I am like my sign.” He grabbed both mugs, pouring coffee into the two.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Like</em> your sign? You are the definition of a Virgo! Poster child if you will.”</p><p> </p><p>“Those are a one sized fits all,” he argued, “anyone can squint hard enough and fit the description.”</p><p> </p><p>“What a logical, practical response,” Kate paused, thoughtful, “…<em>like a Virgo</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nearly slammed the mug down on the counter. “I thought you didn’t believe in astrology!”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t!”</p><p> </p><p>“Then why do you insist I am like my sign—”</p><p> </p><p>“Signs?” The two turned to the doorway to find Daphne. She was still dressed in pajamas, matching purple flannel set along with her fluffy blue robe. “Are you two talking about astrology?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony glared at Kate, she scowling right back.</p><p> </p><p>“What sign are you, Kate?” Daphne asked, making her way into the kitchen. She plugged in the electric kettle, water already in the pot, and flipped the switch on.</p><p> </p><p>“Taurus,” Kate answered. “May 12<sup>th</sup>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m a Libra” Daphne shared, “September 26<sup>th</sup>. Anthony and I would have conjoined birthday parties when we were younger. Mother says our birthdays being in the same month made us closer.” Her eyes slid over to Anthony, his sister’s nose scrunching in a teasing manner. “And you’re right, Anthony is a classic Virgo, whether he believes it or not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ha!” Kate cheered, poking his shoulder roughly. “Told you so!</p><p> </p><p>He frowned at both of them. Picking up pink mug, he held it out to Kate.</p><p> </p><p>She ignored the proffered mug, grabbing the larger, black mug on the counter instead.</p><p> </p><p>He inhaled deeply; she was doing this to annoy him, she must have been. “Take your coffee and <em>leave</em>, you menace.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s mouth bit into a stubborn frown. “<em>Fine</em>.” She turned Daphne, all sweet and polite. “You have a good rest of your morning, Daphne. Tell Simon I said ‘hello’.” She made her way to the door, stopping to call for Newton.</p><p> </p><p>The corgi did not move an inch.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn you traitor,” she muttered before finally taking her leave.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sipped his coffee, staring at where she’d been moments early. Kate was ridiculous; utterly ridiculous. She could go from a giddy, silly ramble about astrology to grumbling scowling mess in ten seconds flat. And all because of him. He did that.</p><p> </p><p>Sure he could charm women with sweet words and smiles, but there was nothing like seeing Kate snap from one reaction to another all because he knew how to press the right buttons.</p><p> </p><p>“You like her.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony choked on his coffee.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” he coughed, struggling to catch his breath, “<em>what</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne shuffled closer to him, arms crossed primly as a cunning smile emerged. “You. Like. Her.”</p><p> </p><p>“I do not like <em>Katherine</em>,” he spat, set his coffee down. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down his little sister, trying his best to be stoic. “I barely even know her. Did you not hear me call her a menace? Because that’s exactly what she is.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne slowly shook her head, lips pursed together. “You were smiling—Yes, smiling brother—the entire time she was here.”</p><p> </p><p>A flare of panic shot through him. “No, I wasn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“You were smirking then,” Daphne relented, rolling her eyes. “You two were in your own little bubble bickering away. I wonder if I didn’t come in how much longer you two would just be standing there, grumbling with each other.”</p><p> </p><p>“I do not like her,” Anthony found himself repeating. “You are seeing things, dear sister.”</p><p> </p><p>Ignoring his outcry, she pulled out a tea tin, a decaf English Breakfast in her hand. “The man doth protests too much.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am dating Edwina.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Edwina,” Daphne sighed, “A girl you have only been dating for a couple of months and does not bring a light to your eyes when you speak of her,” Daphne said simply. Her smugness softened, Anthony feeling vulnerable in her presence. “But Kate—”</p><p> </p><p>“Daff—”</p><p> </p><p>“But Kate brings out a side of you I have never seen.” She paused, setting her tender gaze of him. “And this is only after a day. A <em>day</em>, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>She left him in favor for a mug. With methodical ease she made her tea, letting Anthony sit in his stubborn silence.</p><p> </p><p>He did not like Kate. He did not know Kate. She was just a thorn in his side he’d have to tend to the rest of his life until he keeled over in a few years’ time. She wasn’t this…<em>person</em> that caused him to light up and whatever other romance novel nonsense his sister babbled on about.</p><p> </p><p>“When are you going to tell him?” Anthony said, dropping their previous topic all together. He eyed her tea. Then her abdomen. She wasn’t showing yet, probably wouldn’t be for at least another month, but the glow was there. The motherly glow.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony…” Daphne sighed, tired before the conversation started. “I thought you said you’d keep it to yourself? You promised me.”</p><p> </p><p>It been a frantic phone call, she elated and panicked. A crying mess he visited in the middle of the work day, to sit with her until she could calmly tell him the news and swore him to secrecy.</p><p> </p><p>“And I am keeping my promise,” Anthony assured her. “But am I just wondering when you are going to tell your husband you are expecting. I feel guilty keep this from everyone, but especially him.”</p><p> </p><p> “I’m not ready to tell him.” Daphne blew on her tea before taking a tentative sip. “We weren’t planning on having children until later. Much later. When we felt ready…”</p><p> </p><p>“I…am not trying to put pressure on you,” Anthony said, now feeling guilty for even bringing the matter up, “but I know it must be eating you up inside not saying anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is,” Daphne confirmed, “but I told you because I needed to tell someone. Now be a good brother and honor that secrecy you swore. Anyone could be listening.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am, I am,” he nodded. “I’m just concerned for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t need to be.” She patted his shoulder, giving a warm squeeze before letting go.</p><p> </p><p>But that was the thing, even though Daphne was strong, independent, and in a loving marriage, Anthony would always worry about her. He’d always worry about all his siblings; they were his responsibility, whether they understood that or not.</p><p> </p><p>“By the way, Taurus and Virgo are one of the most compatible romantic pairings in the zodiac.” She sipped her tea, raising her eyebrows. “I’ll let that be food for thought for you, brother.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>For most of the day the family and guests of Aubrey Hall stayed inside. The quiet downpour from the night before decided to make itself at home in the country.</p><p> </p><p>Kate was content to make camp in her room for the next few days. She checked the weather thrice, all different news sources and the outcome was the same. A downpour for the next few days, but no thunder or lightening warnings accompanied the reports. But she was keen to keep to herself if the storm decided to take a turn for the worst.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the Bridgertons seemed to have the same idea as her. The siblings stayed in their rooms for the most part, venturing out every once in a while to bother one another.</p><p> </p><p>At one point a rambunctious game of hide and seek had been initiated. Colin, Penelope, Hyacinth, Gregory and surprisingly the rather stoic Simon were the key players. Violet had been delighted about the news, perhaps believing her children were listening to her outcry, she happy to watch the antics from the sitting room.</p><p> </p><p>Kate had only known about the game because of a desperate intrusion. Simon had knocked on the door and asked to hide in her room, claiming Hyacinth was on the hunt.</p><p> </p><p>“By all means,” she gestured to the open arm chair on the other side of the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” he breathed. “Normally I wouldn’t be for this sort of thing but…” He shrugged, taking a seat. “Hyacinth has a stronghold.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate chuckled; she wholeheartedly believed Hyacinth capable of devious means.</p><p> </p><p>“You seem to get along well with the family,” Simon remarked, apparently keen on a conversation. “They like you. A lot.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose,” Kate hummed, wiping away eraser shavings from her sketch book. Readjusting the pad, she resumed her halfhearted sketching. “It’s only been…what? Almost two days? Anyone is easy to get along with in a day. The concern comes after a good week. Then you see true colors.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon’s eyes crinkled at her humor. “The Bridgertons are a rather transparent family. At least I like to believe so. They love each other deeply despite what you saw last night.” He sighed. “They just have a lot of hurt and pain they don’t always like to address.”</p><p> </p><p>“I understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. Not many do.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate paused her sketching, feeling the warmth pride Simon had for his in-laws. “You love them very much, don’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>“They are the only family I have ever had,” he confessed. “My love for them has no bounds.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate decided then Simon Basset was a wise and sincere man…and the only one who seemed to understand how overwhelming the well-meaning family could be.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t need to hide in here did you?” she asked, the thought of this being subtle interrogation occurring to her.</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Simon shook his head. “I just wanted to talk to you without a Bridgerton spying. Let you know you can talk to me whenever Anthony is being a prick. He cannot help himself sometimes.” He stood up. “I am actually the one who needs to go searching. Thought I’d let them bastards sweat it out a bit.”</p><p> </p><p>It was then Kate added ‘sly’ to list of Simon Bassett’s attributes.</p><p> </p><p>Besides the few rounds hide and seek, the house once again feel silent. Life picked back up at dinner, but it seemed even the weather was starting to affect even the most upbeat Bridgerton.</p><p> </p><p>Violet, however, was not deterred. “It’s just a couple of downpour days out of the month. It’s given me time to plan out the dinner party for Sunday.”</p><p> </p><p>“A dinner party on Sunday?” Anthony uttered, none too pleased. Though it may have been due to the lentil soup Benedict made for dinner. It was his turn, the man happily volunteering to take the next cooking shift.</p><p> </p><p>The soup was more mush than anything.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Violet beamed, “a dinner party. The storm should pass by then and I already sent out the invitations to the neighbors. I want them to know we are here and want to reconnect.”</p><p> </p><p>“It sounds like a good time,” Benedict assured his mother when none of his siblings jumped for joy at the news.</p><p> </p><p>“I knew you’d understand,” Violet patted her second eldest son’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“And that is why Benedict is the favorite,” Eloise muttered to Kate, low enough for just those beside her to hear, “the classic suck up. Love him, but damn he makes the rest of us look like shit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Language,” Anthony muttered to his sister offhandedly. “We are eating, Eloise.”</p><p> </p><p>The rest of dinner completed with ease, the house banning together to clean up the kitchen and dining room.</p><p> </p><p>Kate had been drying the last of the plates when the first crack of thunder echoed.</p><p> </p><p>She nearly dropped the plate at the rumble. Her body went ridged, clutching the plate and towel to her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“There it goes!” Daphne chuckled, shutting off the tap. “Ah, don’t you love a good summer storm?”</p><p> </p><p>“I do,” Simon grinned down at his wife, giving her a sweet kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“Gross!” Eloise yelped, throwing a kitchen towel the two. “Keep it in the bedroom!”</p><p> </p><p>“I think they are adorable,” Benedict countered, nudging past Eloise to the refrigerator, a latch closed pot of leftovers in his hand. “Not everyone is a sour puss when it comes to love like you, Eloise.”</p><p> </p><p>The girl in question’s face darkened. “Whatever. Still gross.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, I think that’s the last of it,” Kate announced, quieter than she intended. She folded the kitchen towel, setting it down on the counter. “I’m not feeling well, so I’m just…” She motioned behind her to the door.</p><p> </p><p>The only person who seemed to catch her words in the loud chatter of the Bridgertons was sweet Penelope. “Are you alright?” she asked, picking up the dry plates and passing them to Colin, the only one who could reach the appropriate cabinet without trouble.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Kate mustered out.</p><p> </p><p>Penelope did not seem convinced, concern deep in her brow. “Are you sure? You seem a little shaken.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m okay,” Kate said, hoping she at least sounded sure of herself. “Thank you though, for asking.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Penelope gave her a comforting smile. “We care about you, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>Such a bold statement for someone who barely knew her, but Penelope seemed to genuinely mean it.</p><p> </p><p>With haste goodbyes, Kate made herself scarce, beelining to her room before anyone could see her leave.</p><p> </p><p>At least that’s what she thought.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Slight filler/transition chapter, but important moments! Plenty of important little moments! </p><p>Also...I guessed birthdays. In TVWLM Lady Whistledown's papers about Anthony's 39th birthday are published on September 17th, so I backtracked a couple of days to estimate Anthony's birthday on September 15th. I could be totally wrong, but I needed to pick a day and so I did. Plus...ANTHONY IS SUCH A VIRGO 😂 EDIT NOTE 2/2: OKAY I REREAD THE EPILOGUE INSTEAD OF SKIMMED AND YES HIS BIRTHDAY IS THE 17TH SO THAT HAS BEEN FIXED. BUT STILL A VIRGO. If I have learned anything with this chapter is just don't assign anyone a birthday 😂</p><p>And has anyone realized yet why the family spends the month of July together?</p><p>EDIT NOTE: Original post had Daphne as Gemini but I meant Libra! My brain mixed the two when I looked back and forth from the chart. But it is now fixed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Phone Calls & Thunderstorms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes I upped the chapter count because I am wordy as hell and we are still on the first week at Aubrey Hall and we have a freaking month here 😂</p><p>For everyone who noticed I got the astrology signs wrong last chapter--I fixed it. Daphne is a Libra, not Gemini!  </p><p>Also for everyone who asked for my astrology sign, I'm a Taurus 😉</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>“What do you mean you aren’t coming this weekend <em>at all</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>He knew Kate said it was a possibility, but he didn’t want to believe her.</p><p> </p><p>Edwina’s regretful sigh came through the line. “Anthony, I barely started this internship and already I feel like I am behind. I need to stay and catch up on work.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t even come for one day? How about tomorrow? An afternoon? I’ll drive you,” he tried, hoping he didn’t sound too needy. London was less than two hours away, accounting for possible Saturday traffic. He’d take the drive, not even bothering with the train, and bringing her back within the day.</p><p> </p><p>“It would be useless,” Edwina said gently, “my mind would be here with my work rather than enjoying my time with you and Kate.” She paused, a ruffle of papers on her side. “And isn’t it raining over there right now?”</p><p> </p><p>Leaning back in his study chair, Anthony peeked through the heavy burgundy drapes, the same his father had and his father’s father had when the study was theirs.</p><p> </p><p>Still a steady downpour.</p><p> </p><p>“It is,” Anthony muttered, seeing her point, “but that doesn’t mean Aubrey Hall doesn’t have it’s charms even in less than pleasing weather.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure you are right.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know why he deflated at her response.</p><p> </p><p>“How is Kate doing?” Edwina asked after the silence inched for a moment too long. “I haven’t had the chance to ring her. Is she settling in nicely? Newton is not causing too much trouble is he?” She then giggled. “I’m sorry—I just remembered this would be your first time meeting each other! How did it go? Did you two hit it off? I always felt you would.”</p><p> </p><p>“We…” How did one say he utterly detested his girlfriend’s sister and wanted to kill her and laugh with her all in one breath? He didn’t want Edwina to believe he and Kate hated each other (even though they were very close to hatred) but he also did not want her to think he and Kate became the best of friends upon first meeting. “We hit <em>something</em> alright.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony told her an abridged version of his and Kate’s first meeting. He left out Kate’s less than welcoming words to him and any mention of proposals as well as other scathing words. He spoke of their walk, Newton, the garden…purposely left out Kate’s tumble (mostly because Anthony wasn’t too sure he could speak of the instance without laughing at the dramatic replay in his mind) which only left a few good bits. Like their love for dogs, Kate’s art, and his flowers.</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t you ever mention you were allergic?” Anthony asked, the matter still bothering him days later.</p><p> </p><p>“I just didn’t,” Edwina confessed, not at all troubled by the fact. “I didn’t see the point of telling you when you liked to give the flowers and Kate liked receiving them. It made two people I care about happy. What’s the harm of that?” Her voice sounded echo-y as though she switched him to speaker phone. He hated speaker phone. “You should have seen how her face would light up at the sight of the bouquets.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did she think they were for her?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course not,” Edwina seemed to wave off, however a tinge of sadness laced her words. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t think Kate has ever received flowers from anyone. I’d always give her the ones boyfriends or dates would give me. Since, well you know, allergies.”</p><p> </p><p>His gut twisted.</p><p> </p><p>All women deserved to be given flowers at least once in their life. Flowers meant for them, no one else. Kate, who appreciated flowers and their delicate life, deserved them most of all.</p><p> </p><p>Even if he didn’t like her, he knew she deserved such a gesture.</p><p> </p><p>However the morsel level fact brought another question to heed.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate doesn’t date?” he found himself asking, far too curious. She was a beautiful woman, who was witty, strongminded, and confident. Surely someone would have tried to capture her heart.</p><p> </p><p>Key word: <em>tried</em>. She was still a menace and he could imagine lesser men running for the hills once they realized just how diabolical and fiendish the woman could be.</p><p> </p><p>“No, not really,” Edwina muttered, disheartened for her sister. “I think she had one boyfriend. Once. In university?” She sounded so unsure. “But it didn’t last long. At least not long enough for me to remember him,” she chuckled. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why were you asking about her dating history?” she asked, mirth flooding her.</p><p> </p><p>“No reason,” he uttered, rubbing at his eyes. The darker skies were playing with his mind, telling him to turn in for bed when it was only two in the afternoon. “Maybe we can double date or something…that’s what people do right?” he joked.</p><p> </p><p>And naturally, Edwina did not take the bait, missing the joke altogether.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Kate would hate that,” Edwina tsked. “She hates being set up. You can imagine the lengths I’d have to go through to set her up with someone. Would have to lock her up in the country side with them or something…” she trailed off. “You know what—I have to make a phone call back to the office—”</p><p> </p><p>He sat up at her abruptness. “Really? On a Friday? I thought you didn’t have work on Friday.”</p><p> </p><p>“I really need to go. Have good afternoon, Anthony!”</p><p> </p><p>And the line went dead.</p><p> </p><p>“Well then…” He muttered, tossing his phone down on his desk. He hadn’t expected the phone call to end so soon, but he wasn’t going to complain. As much as he liked Edwina, he often found their conversation…lacking.</p><p> </p><p>Boring?</p><p> </p><p>Droning?</p><p> </p><p>Something of the likes at least.</p><p> </p><p>But not in the sense he didn’t care to listen, but…</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t care to listen especially when she went on about her research. She was an intellectual, and he appreciated this about her, but he could not have his brain switched to philosophy and history all the time. He barely paid attention to either when he was in school.</p><p> </p><p>Checking his watch, Anthony realized he had a free afternoon. A rare occurrence.</p><p> </p><p>Kicking his feet up on the edge of his desk, he reclined back, trying his best to get comfortable in his desk chair. A nap would do him some good. Get his mind off of Kate and Edwina and the fact maybe just maybe he liked talking to Kate more than…</p><p> </p><p>He groaned.</p><p> </p><p>He need to just not think <em>period</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Wiping his face, Anthony tried to relax his shoulders. He closed his eyes, waiting for the dredges of sleep to welcome him….</p><p> </p><p>His study door busted open.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony, I think there is a ghost in the house!” Hyacinth cried out.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes squeezed shut. His siblings could not leave him alone for one measly hour, could they?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Can you please repeat what happened,” Anthony leaned back against his desk, hands braced down on the edge as he balanced himself and tried his best to stay awake, “slower this time, Hyacinth?”</p><p> </p><p>The sixteen year inhaled deeply, a worried pinch to her face. “I was in the library—”</p><p> </p><p>“You never go into the library,” Anthony said, finding the beginning of this story odd altogether.</p><p> </p><p>“Well I was in the library,” she restated, a bit fiercer than before, “looking for that old book—”</p><p> </p><p>“There are a lot of old books in that library. Half of it’s belongings are at least over half a century old.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was looking for the Shakespeare play—”</p><p> </p><p>This was honestly headache inducing. “Shakespeare has a lot of works, Hyacinth. Not just one.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have summer reading I need to complete and I have to read one of the plays, okay!” The teenager huffed.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s eyebrows shot up, arms crossing over his chest at her outburst.</p><p> </p><p>She composed herself within seconds, as though realizing how childish she’d been. And while Hyacinth was indeed still a child, she made efforts to not be seen as such, especially in the eyes of her older—<em>eldest</em>—sibling.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay…” Anthony breathed out, “so, you were in the library, looking for a Shakespeare play to read for your summer reading?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she nodded once.</p><p> </p><p>“And?”</p><p> </p><p>“And I heard a ghost cry out when the thunder crashed,” Hyacinth explained calmly.</p><p> </p><p>“And you know, for a fact, this is a ghost?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes and you need to go kill it,” she insisted.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony frowned, wondering if he heard her correctly.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth waiting for him, impatient, was answer enough.</p><p> </p><p>For someone so smart, how could she be <em>so</em>…“It’s a ghost, Hyacinth, not some bug. It’s already dead. I cannot kill what has already been killed,” he explained.</p><p> </p><p>“Then scare it away! Cleanse the room! Get a priest, I don’t know!” She looked like on the verge of another outcry.</p><p> </p><p>Honestly, why did Colin and Benedict let her watch all those horror films with them when she was younger? He understood checking under the bed for monsters and sleeping with the hall light on to scare away the evil spirits, but wanting him to ‘kill a ghost’ in the library?</p><p> </p><p>This was a therapy bill in the making. For both of them.</p><p> </p><p>“How about this?” Anthony stood up from his perch, coming over to Hyacinth and wrapping an arm around her. “I’ll go down to the library and see what this ‘ghost’ is on about. See if there really is one.” He knew for a fact there wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to invalidate Hyacinth’s fears by not checking. “For all we know, it could have been the air kicking in or…the thunder rattling the house.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay…” she mumbled, letting Anthony led her out of the study.</p><p> </p><p>“And I’ll grab you a Shakespeare play while I am at it,” he added, closing the study door behind them, “so you don’t have to go back to the East Wing again.”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth relaxed at the idea. “I can live with that.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what I thought.”</p><p> </p><p>Sticking true to his word and not wasting any more time, Anthony went straight to the library in the East Wing. He rarely trekked to the east side of the house, his family’s rooms and his study located in the West Wing. Most of the guestrooms were situated in the East Wing, along with an additional sitting room and study, and of course the apparent ‘haunted’ library.</p><p> </p><p>The last he recalled entering the library had been during his first year of university, when he’d been looking for anywhere to hide from his rambunctious siblings and focus on his studies. Of course later that year his father passed and suddenly he inherited a study he could hide away in rather than a drafty, long room full of old stacks.</p><p> </p><p>Though that did not mean the library had not been put to good use since his last venture. Eloise was the most common visitor, Benedict as well when he needed language or a novel to inspire him. Since marrying Daphne, Simon had also become a regular, at one point setting up shop for a virtual meeting in the library last summer.</p><p> </p><p>The Bridgertons <em>did</em> use the library. With the amount of traffic the room received, the probability of a ghost in the library was slim to none.</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, this knowledge did not stop the sliver of doubt to slip through Anthony as he opened the library door.</p><p> </p><p>The main lights were on, a warm glow filling the room.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing appeared out of place. No books left out by the lounge area or by the dead fireplace.</p><p> </p><p>Everything looked normal.</p><p> </p><p>Stepping further into the room, Anthony roamed the closest stacks, the rows alphabetized by author and organized by genre. It took him time to refamiliarize, but he soon found himself in front of their Shakespeare collection. Various editions, new and old, sat before him. Anthony plucked out a modern paperback of <em>Much Ado About Nothing</em>, the only Shakespeare he recalled enjoying in his youth. He was sure Hyacinth would like the play to some degree, or at the very least find a performance of it somewhere on the internet to help her get through the reading.</p><p> </p><p>Just as he turned to leave the very much not haunted library, a boom of thunder cried from above.</p><p> </p><p>No other sound accompanied it. Not a cry, nor yelp, nor ghostly groan.</p><p> </p><p>But it was then he noticed, in the flash of lightning, other items had been left about despite his initial quick sweep of the library; someone’s belongs sprawled across the work table.</p><p> </p><p>Frowning, Anthony walked over to the table for further inspection—a sketch book, pencils, a phone, and tangled ear buds.</p><p> </p><p>He picked up the phone. It was protected by dark green shock resistant case with some dried paint smudge, as though someone picked it up without realizing the mess in their hands. The sketchbook was also left open, to a half-hearted motif of a tulip. Various tulips. A pencil rolled out to the further end of the table.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t hard to put the evidence together. “Kate?” he called out.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing.</p><p> </p><p>“Katherine?”</p><p> </p><p>Stalking over to the last remaining rows of books, Anthony found no one else in the library. He was alone, as he expected to be, but finding Kate’s belongings caused him to wonder…if Kate had been down here, perhaps she was this ‘ghost’ Hyacinth claimed to have heard.</p><p> </p><p>Eyes still glued to the table, an annoyed grunt left him.</p><p> </p><p>She must have left for some time, in haste, if she forgot her cell phone <em>and</em> left her sketchbook open. Weren’t artists the secretive and sensitive sort? Lord knows how many times he just so much as passed a sketching or painting Benedict for his brother to scramble to hide his work, <em>“It’s not done, Anthony! Don’t look!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Thunder rumbled, the heart of the storm seeming to rest right above Aubrey Hall.</p><p> </p><p>Mouth pressing in a deep frown, he tucked the copy of <em>Much Ado About Nothing</em> under his arm, and gathered up Kate’s belongings. He’d just take them to her room. If she was in there, then it would be a nice favor. Nice points for Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>If not, and Kate came back to the library to find her work gone…then at least he’d get a good chuckle watching her run amuck, searching like a chicken with its head cut off.</p><p> </p><p>A win-win for sure.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Curled into a ball under the covers with a pillow pressed to her head, Kate tried to calm her breathing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>A deep breath in, a deep breath out.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>That’s all she needed to do. Focus on her breathing. Pretend her breathing was larger and louder than the thunder. A task easier said than done.</p><p> </p><p>If only she hadn’t been an idiot and left her phone and earbuds in the library, then she could’ve drown out the noise with music or a podcast. But no, she was a coward, overwhelmed with fear at the first flash of lightning and faintest sound of thunder. Without second thought she left the library, the need to <em>escape</em> the only necessity in her mind.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t need anyone to stumble upon her in the library, find her as a shivering, crying mess, and panic. For someone to find her and be at a total loss of what do with her, like she was some helpless, fragile infant. She’d seen her sister and Mary react in such a way, she didn’t need any of the Bridgertons to do the same.</p><p> </p><p>She inhaled and exhaled.</p><p> </p><p>Inhaled.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Exhaled. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>In—</p><p> </p><p>“Kate?” A sharp knock rapped against her door. Dread nagged at her gut. “Kate—are you in there?” Anthony tried again, another knock.</p><p> </p><p>Lifting her head ever so slightly from her cocoon, Kate called back. “Yes? What do you need, Anthony?” Maybe her tone was harsher than she intended, but she did not want to deal with the likes of him on a good day, let alone during a storm.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t deterred. “I have your sketchbook and phone. You don’t want it?”</p><p> </p><p>She chewed on the inside of her cheek, feeling an overwhelmed urge to scream into her pillow until her lungs gave out. Of course Anthony would be the one to find her belongings and be gentlemanly enough—because he was a real man, a ‘good man’ as Edwina liked to say—to bring them to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Just leave it outside the door!”</p><p> </p><p>“Outside…the door?” he drawled out.</p><p> </p><p>Was everything an argument with this man?</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! Just leave it there! I’ll get it in a moment?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can bring it inside if you want—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No</em>!” She leapt up from the bed, sheets and duvet tangled in her limbs. Tripping over herself, she crawled across the bed to the foot, less than a few feet away from the door. She hugged the bedpost, steadying herself. “Just leave it, Anthony. I am…not well!” Her face scrunched; god, that was a bad excuse. “I am…ill. Just…uh,” she looked around, spotting the empty waste basket beside her desk, “I vomited.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What</em>?” came his muffled outcry.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah—yeah,” she sputtered, adding an ‘bleh’ sort of ache to her voice. “Real bad. I want to be left alone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do I need to bring you anything? Or—”</p><p> </p><p>“I need rest. And to be left alone.”</p><p> </p><p>The doorknob jiggled. A disgruntled huff left Anthony, he twisting the knob again, yet his efforts ended with the same result. It was locked.</p><p> </p><p>Kate smirked.</p><p> </p><p>Thundered echoed again.</p><p> </p><p>She froze, all delight she felt at Anthony’s struggle vanishing.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate?” he called out, sensing something must have been wrong.</p><p> </p><p>“Please…let me be,” she mumbled out, knowing he could not have heard her that well.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fine</em>,” he spat. “Be sick alone for all I care!”</p><p> </p><p>A dull thump sounded outside her door, followed by heavy, near-stomping, footsteps walking away.</p><p> </p><p>Kate sighed, her body slumping until she tuck herself back under the covers and away from the storm.</p><p> </p><p>She got through this alone all her life. She didn’t need anyone else to get through a stupid storm.</p><p> </p><p>But it did feel a little nice to know someone <em>did</em> care.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You’re lentil soup yesterday nearly killed Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Benedict yelped, his utensils clattering. Abashed horror spread across his face.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the table stopped eating, eyes darting between the two brothers. A struggle considering Anthony sat at one end of the table and Benedict the other. Friday evening’s dinner had commenced with one less person at the table, Kate opting to sit out due to her sudden illness.</p><p> </p><p>“I was going to say it was a little…” Eloise tilted her head side to side. “Difficult to stomach. Not surprised it got to one of us.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean ‘nearly killed her’?” Benedict asked, leaning past Francesca, as though inching closer would throw his voice further. “I followed a recipe—”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you?” Colin muttered. “Because it kind of tasted like you threw the lentils into a pot and added water. Like instant soup.” <em>‘Ooo’s</em> were uttered from Hyacinth and Gregory, the harsh critique from Colin a shocker, but not entirely unexpected. Their middle brother was a foody at heart, and even though he did seem to eat everything within his sight, Colin did know <em>good</em> food.</p><p> </p><p>“I followed a recipe,” Benedict reiterated, an annoyed glance to Colin. “If it did, I think I should go apologize—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t bother,” Anthony muttered, staring down his brother, “she doesn’t want to talk with anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you know this <em>how</em>?” Daphne asked. “By the sounds of it, she’s extremely ill—”</p><p> </p><p>“She is and she told me so,” Anthony said.</p><p> </p><p>“Because she talks to you even when she doesn’t want to talk to anyone?” Daphne shot back, clearly poking at matter Anthony did not want to want to entertain, especially in front of the entire house.</p><p> </p><p>“If there is anyone is this house she’d talk to and inform she is ill, it is me,” he stated, seeing the logic. Kate was his guest, Edwina’s sister, and he was the person she had, unfortunately, spent the most time with since arriving at Aubrey Hall.</p><p> </p><p>“Really? Because I am pretty sure you were begging for her to talk to you and let you in,” Eloise chimed in coyly, poking disinterestedly at her food. “And she didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony slowly turned to his sister. “Eloise—”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” she uttered before he could start a reprimanding. “I wasn’t eavesdropping if that’s what you think! You are just very loud and my room is across from Kate’s. I heard you knocking and hollering—”</p><p> </p><p>Snorts and chuckles rippled down the table.</p><p> </p><p>“—'Kate, let me in,’” Eloise deepened her voice, giving a poor mimic of Anthony, “ ‘I can put your stuff in there for you, Kate’.” She rolled her eyes. “You know no one talks like that, right? Saying someone’s name in every other sentence when it is a two way conversation. It’s like you cannot help yourself, but say her name.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony wanted to snap his fork in half.</p><p> </p><p>Didn’t his siblings have lives? Didn’t they have their own concerns than paying attention to how he spoke to Kate? Or really anything to do with him and Kate? Why were they looking at him and how he acted? They never did before. He was the older brother, he was the one who was supposed to observe and comment on behavior! Not his siblings!</p><p> </p><p>“I am going to finish my dinner in the kitchen.” He stood up and took his plate, ignoring the calls for him to sit back down.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I was joking</em>!” Eloise harped.</p><p> </p><p>“No, you weren’t!” Daphne scolded. “Seriously, Eloise?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A knock on his study door roused Anthony from his reading. <em>Beekeeping for Beginners</em>; a paperback edition. One that had been his father’s, the man considering bee keeping a few months prior to his death. He had several books on the subject stowed away in his study, Anthony stumbling upon them some years ago when he finally had the nerve to clean out the study beyond.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony choked on a broken sob when he found the books; what an ironic pursuit for a man who’d one day die from a bee sting.</p><p> </p><p>So he forced himself to read them. To learn more about the damn bees he loathed so much, but most importantly to read the margins. See is father’s messy scrawl in blue pen between the lines and in any available blank space. Edmund Bridgerton could never read to simply read; he need to write down all his thoughts, marrying his words to the print.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony found he was the same way, yet he didn’t dare do such a practice to his father’s books. He wanted the books to stay his <em>father’s</em> <em>books</em>, even though they’d never be marked by the man again.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony?” his mother’s voice called.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here. Come in, Mother.” He quickly tucked the book back into a drawer, away from his mother’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Upon hearing him, Violet entered, a tray of biscuits and tea in her arms. “I had a feeling you’d still be up.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have a hard time sleeping with the rain,” he confessed. A truthful statement. He loved a good thunderstorm. The power it exuded, how it humbled a man. Something about the rain both calmed yet energized Anthony. Sleep did not come easy on nights like this.</p><p> </p><p>His mother hummed, setting down the tray on the side table. Tucking her robe tighter around her, she busied herself with making their tea. “So being up has nothing to do with the fact your guest is apparently ill and refuses to leave her room?”</p><p> </p><p>What was with the Bridgerton women these last few days? All of them were too keen on him, sharing their opinions on him and Kate. Not that there was anything to note. Kate was to be his sister-in-law if he was capable of winning her over and Edwina accepted his proposal. If anything, they could be friends one day, but that did not seem likely.</p><p> </p><p>“This has nothing to do with Katherine, Mother,” Anthony muttered, standing to take the proffered tea.</p><p> </p><p>“I am simply observing,” Mother told him, taking a seat at the arm chair beside the tray. He followed suit, sitting opposite. “You’ve been in a sour mood all evening.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been in sour moods for many evenings of my life.”</p><p> </p><p>His mother was not amused by the remark. Picking up her tea, she sipping thoughtfully. “You care about her.”</p><p> </p><p>“I barely know her.” He felt like a broken record. First Daphne, now Mother.</p><p> </p><p>“Caring for someone does not always need to be developed through time, my son.” Mother plucked a biscuit from the plate, taking nibble at it. “Sometimes we meet people in our life we instantly connect with and care for.” She sighed. “What I am trying to say is, it’s okay to be concerned for Kate. To care for her. If she really is going to be your sister-in-law as you so claim…”</p><p> </p><p>“She will.”</p><p> </p><p>Mother pursed her lips, setting her half eaten biscuit down. “Then she’ll be family. And family looks out for one another. Cares for each other in sickness and in health.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am pretty sure those are marriage vows,” he muttered before taking another sip of his tea.</p><p> </p><p>“Well they stand for family as well.” She stood up, grabbing her biscuit and tea cup. “So you are going to get up from this dark room, take this tray up to Kate, and check in on her.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony looked up at his mother, she standing strong before him. She wasn’t going to take no for answer.</p><p> </p><p>But that didn’t mean Anthony wasn’t going to try.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have another cup—”</p><p> </p><p>His mother produced another cup and saucer from behind the pot. “You were saying?”</p><p> </p><p>Damn it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Curled into her ball, Kate nearly yelped at the knock. No one had bothered to check on her, thankfully, since Anthony huffed away hours early. The only downfall was Newton—the furry bastard left her hours earlier, dashing out the door when she collected her belongings from the corridor.</p><p> </p><p>She only knew her doggo was in good hands when she received a series of selfies from Eloise, all of the girl cuddling Newton like he was her own furry child. Eloise promised to keep an eye on him while Kate ‘recovered from her food poisoning’—Kate didn’t have the heart to correct her, realizing she had to roll with the half-assed lie she created.</p><p> </p><p>Grabbing her phone, she checked the time. Less than a half hour ‘til midnight. Nobody would be bothering her at this time unless it was an emergency or urgent.</p><p> </p><p>Hampering down her fears for a moment, Kate cautiously climbed out of bed. She unlocked the door, cracking it open—</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s warm eyes blinked back at her, surprised she opened the door at all. “Kate—”</p><p> </p><p>She slammed the door back shut. Pressing her forehead to the aged wood, she counted to ten, the rain pounding on her window doing little to help.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate,” he tried again, “I know you don’t want to see anyone. But you missed dinner and…” He huffed, a clattered coming from his side of the door. “What is it?” he spat, beyond exasperated. “Do you become an ogre when it rains? Is that why you are hiding? Because you need to hide this terrible secret—”</p><p> </p><p>Kate cracked open the door, peeking at him through the sliver. “I’m not Fiona from <em>Shrek</em>,” she sputtered, feeling a shocked chuckle begging to be released.</p><p> </p><p>“It was a genuine concern,” he said, shifting the tray in his hands. “The fear of rain, hiding away after dark—”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have a fear of rain,” she grumbled, firmly keeping the door between them. “The rain doesn’t bother me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d beg to differ,” he muttered, a sigh running through him.</p><p> </p><p>She glared up at him, gripping the doorknob harder. She wanted to kick his know-it-all arse to the opposite end of hall so she never had to see it again—</p><p> </p><p>The thunder decided to echo again, more distant than before, but still far too close.</p><p> </p><p>A small whimper betrayed her, a tremor running through her arm.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s eyes widened, he shocked still at the sight of her.</p><p> </p><p>Did she look that horrifying? Was she that pathetic? Enough to warrant Anthony looking at her with that sort of fear and panic; like he wanted to wrap her up in a blanket and run away from her all in the same heartbeat.</p><p> </p><p>Just as she found the nerve to shut the door, her stomach growled.</p><p> </p><p>Damn it. She didn’t have much of a choice now, did she?</p><p> </p><p>Kate opened the door wider. “Get in here and don’t speak a word,” she ordered.</p><p> </p><p>Seeming to know better than to argue, Anthony entered the room.</p><p> </p><p>“You can put the tray there,” she motioned to the desk at the further end of the room. He for once, listened to her.</p><p> </p><p>“How do you—”</p><p> </p><p>“Not a word,” she gritted.</p><p> </p><p>“—take your tea?” he finished, ignoring her.</p><p> </p><p>“Milk, one sugar,” she mumbled, shuffling back over to the bed. Watching him carefully, she sat back down between the covers, tucking her legs under one another.</p><p> </p><p>Once he was done making her tea, he brought the cup over to her. A couple of biscuits were tucked in the saucer, Kate snatching one and biting into it without missing a beat. She was starving; she’d been too afraid to venture far from room, not even willing to scavenge for a snack with the terrible weather.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” she said between mouthfuls.</p><p> </p><p>Instead of accepting her thanks Anthony merely went back to the tray, grabbing his own tea and the plate of biscuits. He set the plate beside her on the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“You can sit,” she mumbled, feeling uncomfortable with him just standing. She understood he was respecting her space in her room, but she’d rather him sit beside her than hover.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sat on the edge of the bed, turned slightly to face her. The two drank and ate in brief companionable silence.</p><p> </p><p>Yet Anthony stared. Openly, knowing she could see him staring at her plain as day.</p><p> </p><p>A concerned, bothered, annoying stare.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” she stumbled over the word, half her mind still focused on the storm as it began to drift away. Hopefully far, far away. “I just…” she swallowed tightly.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t like thunderstorms.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she edged out, the room feeling ten times warmer. “I never have, they…” she exhaled, “they terrify me,” she mumbled out, looking away from him.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Kate…”</p><p> </p><p>“I never have and I am fine,” she hurried out, “it is nothing to worry about or—or be all weird about. I just don’t like them. I get anxious and paralyzed and I…” She shook her head, setting aside her tea. “I don’t like talking about this.”</p><p> </p><p>Ignoring his eyes, his warm eyes begging for her to let him help in anyway—god, how could those eyes be kind when they could also be so, so menacing and exasperated—she tried to turn away from him without knocking over the plate of biscuits. “Thank you for the tea. You can go,” she told him, tucking her legs to her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate…”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean it, <em>go</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>He set down his tea beside hers before shifting to face her fully. “Look at me, Kate—look at me so I know you are at least listening.” He was reaching out to her.</p><p> </p><p>Stubborn, Kate scooted further away, successfully knocking over the biscuits in her efforts. “Let it go, it’s a stupid fear—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not stupid,” his gentle voice cut through. He caught her flailing forearm, a soft steadiness to his grip. “It’s not stupid at all.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” she blinked. Her eyes darted to his hand on her. Warm, comforting, a welcome change from the loneliness that had been creeping through her hours before.</p><p> </p><p>She shucked him off, but didn’t pull out of his reach again.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not stupid,” Anthony repeated, his eyes meeting hers. “No fears are stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>She scoffed. “Like you’re afraid of anything—”</p><p> </p><p>“I am afraid of many things,” he breathed, a flare of panic in his eyes for admitting such a truth. “So many things…” He blinked widely, his mouth struggling to form words. More so the right words. “I cannot remember the last time I wasn’t afraid…”</p><p> </p><p>“Name one,” she ordered, telling herself to not cave into this version of Anthony. This soft, caring version who wanted her to be okay and rely on him, and let him serve her tea like a doting caregiver.</p><p> </p><p>“One?” he uttered, deeply considering the demand.</p><p> </p><p>“One.”</p><p> </p><p>He licked his lips, pulling them into a hard, thoughtful chew.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m afraid of bees.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence fell, Kate’s mouth falling agape.</p><p> </p><p>How could this man…a stubborn, logical, and practical man fear…<em>bees</em>?</p><p> </p><p>“Bees?” she found herself asking, double checking to make sure she heard right.</p><p> </p><p>“Bees,” he confirmed.</p><p> </p><p>“Why bees?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why thunderstorms?” he shot back.</p><p> </p><p>They found themselves in a gridlock. So Kate decided to tell the truth, even if it wasn’t the answer he’d want to hear. “I don’t know. I legitimately do not know why. I have been afraid of them since forever. For as long as I can remember. Even went to therapy to figure it out and nothing,” she shrugged. “At least nothing I can personally remember.”</p><p> </p><p>A cloud of pity reigned over Anthony, a sadness in his eyes as her explanation settled over him. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not your fault.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I’m still sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate shrugged because it was all she could do. “How about you?”</p><p> </p><p>“My reason is morbid.”</p><p> </p><p>“All the more reason to tell it,” she quipped.</p><p> </p><p>His lips twitched, yet his somberness remained. “My father died of a bee sting.”</p><p> </p><p>The air was sucked out of Kate’s lungs.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oh</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t expect that. She expected a story along the lines of hers, or maybe an age old childhood fear that never faded away, but Anthony’s fear was one rooted in grief.</p><p> </p><p>“He wasn’t allergic,” he began to explain, his words slow and steady as her seemed to fall into the memory. “He’d been stung before, yet this one was different. We don’t know why. Something about this particular bee’s stinger had been in contact with something apparently my father <em>was</em> deathly allergic to and…” He paused, a pensive pinch to his brow. “And he died.”</p><p> </p><p>“So…you hate bees?” Kate said, unsure of how to turn the subject away from death and back to the bees. Not that it would matter to Anthony, death and bees were probably synonymous in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>“Loath them,” he said, his classic smirk starting to form. “I swat them away whenever I see them. Kill them sometimes too.”</p><p> </p><p>“To prove you are more powerful?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” he boasted, “to prove I beat death.”</p><p> </p><p>She squinted at him, amused by his logic. “You do know there is a bee shortage in the world. They are randomly dying and it is harming the eco-system.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I will gladly smack every single one, be damned the eco-system,” he declared defiantly.</p><p> </p><p>Kate chortled, collapsing to her side as she struggled to catch her breath. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry! I know it is not funny—but…” She wheezed, pushing herself back up from the clutches of her pillows. “But I keep on picturing you smacking away a bee like a martial artist and—” She caught her breath, the last few chuckles tumbling out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she composed herself, folding her hands on her lap, “this is serious.”</p><p> </p><p>He ducked his head away, the smirk pulling into its full glory. “Let’s have a truce—”</p><p> </p><p>“A truce?” Kate sat up taller. “Just because we confessed our fears to each other does not mean we are best friends and I am going to make us matching charm bracelets.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony rolled his eyes. “Not a real truce—a fear truce. When a thunderstorm happens, find me. And when I encounter a bee—”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll find me?” she asked, intrigued by the proposal.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he nodded. “When our fears come to play, whatever it is going on between us doesn’t matter. Just that we look out for one another.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate hesitated. She didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. Just because he was being a nice person for this one instance did not change anything; if anything, it made the entire situation all the more awful. “This doesn’t mean I approve of you for Edwina. Or that I like you now, because I don’t. You are very low on the list of people I like.”</p><p> </p><p>“You have a list of people you like?” he shot back, eyes narrowed on her.</p><p> </p><p>“And don’t like, and you are still at the top of that list,” she told him, reaching for one of the knocked over biscuits.</p><p> </p><p>Except Anthony snatched it before she could.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! That was mine!”</p><p> </p><p>He shoved the biscuit in his mouth, lunging out of her reach. “You were too slow!” He swatted her reach hand away. To move further, he stood up, officially ending the once tender moment. He paused by her bedside. “More tea?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p> </p><p>Neither noticed the storm had moved away from Aubrey Hall.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Awe, they have a fear truce! How sweet......if only they didn't still sort hate each other's guts. *sigh*</p><p>Now why did I have Anthony reveal his fear of bees so early? Because why not. And don't worry about the whole bee landing on Kate thing (because her not knowing about the Anthony's fear of bees is sort of vital to that) and causing their compromising position...I HAVE SOMETHING PLANNED DEAR READERS THAT IS JUST AS HUMILIATING MWAHAHAHA.</p><p>Anyways... let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Sunday Dinner ~ Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter started getting longer and longer, so I decided to break it up a little! Hope y'all don't mind! :)</p><p>Slowly replying to comments! Thank you all so much for your love and support for this fic!</p><p>Typos will be fixed later!</p><p>Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>Sunday Evening, half past ten….</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I am going to kill you</em>!” Anthony hissed, hands gripping her forearms for dear life. “I don’t care—I do not care at this point! You are a menace, getting your damn nose into everything!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate wiggled in his arms, bumping back against the desk. “It was an honest accident!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hiding under my desk is an 'honest accident'?” he asked, his hold lessening but his words rooting her in place. “Listening to a private conversation—”</p><p> </p><p>“I did not know anyone else was going to come in here!” Kate wretched her arms from him, scowling. “Everyone’s at the dinner party, half drunk!” Realizing Anthony had her boxed in, Kate pushed herself up on the desk, prepared to crawl over and give him a good kick in the groin with her heel. “How could I possibly known you’d come in here with her!”</p><p> </p><p>He caught her leg before she could try an ill kick, though released her once he was sure she wasn’t going to aim for his nether regions.</p><p> </p><p>Kate shifted on the desk, both legs now tucked awkwardly under the skirt of her dress. She successfully knocked down papers he had stacked, Anthony groaning at the mess she made.</p><p> </p><p>“Get down,” he ordered, stiff tension firm in his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>She shrugged, dusting invisible lint from her pale yellow, chiffon dress. “I kind of like it up here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Get. <em>Down</em>,” he repeated, each word sharp. Yet he held a hand out for her to grasp.</p><p> </p><p>Realizing she didn’t have much of option on the matter, Kate took his hand and eased down from the desk. Once she was back on her own two feet, she moved to release his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Except Anthony’s grip tightened. “Oh no, you are staying right by my side the entire night,” he declared in a low grumble. “Not going to have you slip away again and—”</p><p> </p><p>The study door creaked open.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oop</em>!” A stumble of heels echoed on the hardwood floor just outside the door. “<em>Shit</em>…god I hate these things.” A familiar voice traveled from the door.</p><p> </p><p>“What on Earth—” Kate slapped a hand over his mouth before another syllable could be uttered. He half the mind to bite her hand, not withstanding being manhandled by the woman.</p><p> </p><p>With one forceful yank, she brought him down and behind the desk with her.</p><p> </p><p>An admittedly tight and uncomfortable fit. No two grown adults should hide under or behind furniture, Anthony knew that for certain. He was positive Kate’s elbow was going to impale his lung.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello?” The woman called out, a bit gruff and drunk. It did not take Kate long to put two and two together to make out Eloise. “Any guests going for a shag in here because if you are…” her next words were mumbled before making out clearly, “Anthony will fuck you over…”</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell—” His words were once again muffled by Kate’s hands, she shaking her head at him.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Shut up</em>,” she mouthed, a faint whisper in the consonants.</p><p> </p><p>The study door was shut, heels kicked off a second later. Eloise seemed to amble around the room, singing a half warble of ‘Girl’s Just Want To Have Fun,’ doing Cyndi Lauper poorly.</p><p> </p><p>A soft thump was heard, Eloise groaning then shifting, taking a seat near the desk. A couple of belongings clattered around above them on the desk before a scuffle and clunk of hard plastic echoed. The only thing that was plastic and could be fumbled and dropped on Anthony’s desk was an old landline situated in the corner, out of the way of his workspace.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck—what’s his number…” Eloise muttered, thumping something—possibly her forehead—against the front edge of the desk.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Who’s number</em>?” Anthony mouthed.</p><p> </p><p>A click of buttons filled the room, followed by the faint drone of a phone ringing…</p><p> </p><p>“Damn, voicemail.” The phone was hung back up. Only for buttons to click again. “Fuck it.” The drone of phone rang once more, then into the muffled, automated voicemail. But that did not stop Eloise. “I know…you are not going to pick up,” she mumbled decisively, her words strung together sloppily. “Mostly because it is almost midnight and you’re an <em>old man</em> who cannot stay up past ten for the life of him. But that’s fine. <em>So fine</em>.” Eloise paused. “Because ya know what? I don’t want to talk to you! And I don’t want anyone else to talk to you because you are a lying liar-liar. <em>So…</em>” the word was once again drawled out, long and high before a dramatic inhale was taken. “I am going to call you. Repeatedly. Until your entire voicebox is full and no one else can reach you and you have no choice but to listen to me and my list for grivan—” She coughed, gagged, and caught her breath in the span of seconds, “grievances about you grumpy, grumpy, grumpy face.”</p><p> </p><p>She hung up. Then dialed again. “What’s up? Guess who it is? <em>ME</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Both Kate and Anthony shared a dreadful glance.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, this was going to be a <em>long</em> night.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Two Hours Earlier</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“So you must be Edwina Sheffield?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope,” Kate uttered for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night, “Katherine. <em>Kate</em>. Kate Sheffield.” She sipped demurely on her glass of wine, looking anywhere for a saving grace. “Edwina is my younger sister.”</p><p> </p><p>“The scholar?” the woman, who’s name Kate had already forgotten asked. God, did everyone in the bloody countryside follow Lady Whistledown and believe her threads to be gospel?</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Kate answered, reminding herself to be polite. She was indeed a guest of the Bridgertons, and was overall representing them and her sister at the dinner turned never ending night of drinks, hors d’oeuvres, and mingling. “She studies history and philosophy,” she answered, taking another large swing of her wine—a white blend of something. Not her usual poison, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “She has plans to go for a PhD.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what do you do, dear?”</p><p> </p><p>“I teach,” Kate answered, proud of her profession. “Art. I teach art for Year 5, 6, and Upper 6<sup>th</sup>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” the woman gave her a pity smile, not at all impressed, “how sweet.”</p><p> </p><p>Seemingly done with the conversation, the woman excused herself moving on to her next prey in the mingling guests.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh go fuck yourself,” Kate mumbled into her glass.</p><p> </p><p>“Careful or one of these old biddies might hear you,” Eloise warned, joining her at the outskirts of the hoard.</p><p> </p><p>Kate simply finished her drink, staring at the empty glass with vague interest. “When your mother said she was having a dinner…”</p><p> </p><p>“She absolutely meant a night where people got sloshed and ate really fancy tiny food? Yes,” Eloise chuckled. “Dinner party is just code for ‘small, more intimate gathering.’”</p><p> </p><p>“With all the neighbors in the area?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Eloise confirmed. “This is her way of showing society that we are still part of the semi-socialite world,” she drawled. “Even after technically being MIA off and on for sixteen years and despite the press and Whistledown sticking their noses in our business.”</p><p> </p><p>“How fascinating.” Kate honestly did not understand the interest in families like the Bridgertons from the outside world; sure she’d been swept up in the drama a time or two, especially when she was following along to gossip saga involving Simon Bassett and Daphne.</p><p> </p><p>God—she felt awful thinking about it now, now knowing the couple personally. They were sweet, far sweeter than any one remarked.</p><p> </p><p>A younger woman stopped by their little huddle. “I don’t believe we have met,” she told Kate, completely disregarding Eloise. “Cressida Cowper.” She nodded daintily to Kate, as though she were afraid to exert too much energy on someone she cared so little for. “And you are?”</p><p> </p><p>“This is Kate,” Eloise interjected, tilting her head at Cressida. “She’s here with my brother. <em>Anthony</em>,” she elongated the name, adding more weight to his name than necessary. “You remember him, Cres? My older brother, who <em>Kate</em>,” she wrapped a jovial arm around Kate, holding her tight, “is here with.”</p><p> </p><p>Cressida’s delicate features darkened, unamused with Eloise. “Yes. How nice,” she sneered. Giving one more polite nod, Cressida walked away.</p><p> </p><p>“Cressida crisis averted.” Eloise gave a cheers to herself. “She’s been vying for at least one of my brothers for ages. It’s always best to scare her off early so we don’t have to deal with her later.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good to know,” Kate muttered, feeling like she needed another drink to get through the rest of the night.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh finally people I can stand,” Eloise murmured, nudging Kate. She motioned to where Penelope and Colin were stuck chatting with an elderly man, he gesturing away to his story as though he’d never get another ear to listen. “Do you think I should go save them? Or let them suffer longer?”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope and Colin were too kind to weasel out of a conversation without a helping hand. “Definitely save,” Kate urged. “I’ll hold down the fort.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise passed off her empty glass to Kate before marching off towards her brother and best friend, with every intention of saving them and bring them to safety.</p><p> </p><p>A strum of classic strings began to hum through the large sitting room, Violet hiring a quartet to play for the night. With ease couples gathered, swaying in the room to the melodious music.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, there you are, Kate!”</p><p> </p><p>Jumping at the sound of her name, she whirled around to her right, finding Benedict hurrying her way. “Oh hello!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he breathed out, all charming smiles despite the exertion.</p><p> </p><p>“Well I’ve been right here since dinner was adjourned,” she told him. “But you’ve been…” Out of all the Bridgerton siblings, Benedict seemed the most in his element; he played the part of attentive son and brother well, laughed at the right pitch to all the terrible and joyous jokes shared, and knew how to make even the sternest elderly ladies attending that evening blush. “Quite the entertainer,” she finished, satisfied with her word choice.</p><p> </p><p>“Comes with the territory,” he chuckled, “whenever Mama wanted a companion to a party and Father was busy or Anthony was away at school, she brought me.” He grinned, fond of the time he spent with his mother. “But I can see how this is not your speed…”</p><p> </p><p>“How?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“The frown on your face says it all,” he told her, keeping his voice low. “But don’t worry, we can fix that.” He held his hand out to her. “As an apology for my lentil mishap, may I ask for a dance?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate opened her mouth, at a loss for words.</p><p> </p><p>She could not recall the last time she danced—truly danced, not dressed in her pajamas singing off key to Lady Gaga dancing, but partner dancing.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I don’t know…” she sputtered, ready to flee. Turning to the refreshment bar beside her, Kate set down the empty glasses in her hands. “I don’t really dance.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nonsense,” Benedict’s was warm and encouraging, and not going to take no for an answer. “Everyone can dance. Even you Miss Sheffield.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t—<em>whoa</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Seizing his opportunity, he grasped her free hand and dragged her to the impromptu dance floor. He spun her around in an under the arm twirl, before pulling her up close for a fun little sway. Not exactly to the beat or energy of the music, but one that garnered some chuckles from not only Kate, but a few of guests.</p><p> </p><p>“See,” he grinned down at her, holding up her arms aloft and pulling her to follow his lead. “You can dance.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose…”</p><p> </p><p>“Just let me do the twirling and you look like you are having the time of your life,” he urged her, giving a quick wink.</p><p> </p><p>It was hard to say no to someone like Benedict. “Okay,” she uttered, a horse laugh bubbling through, “lead the way then.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You look like you swallowed a toad.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony grunted, grabbing another glass of wine from the table. “I have no idea what you are talking about, brother-in-law.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon sighed, looking out to the dance floor. Both watched as Benedict twirled a giggling Kate, pretending to go into a dip only to bring her back to sway and energetic chatter. Other couples had joined in the dancing, even his mother, she dragging along Colin to join her.</p><p> </p><p>The poor soul, always getting the short straw these days when it came to Mother.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m surprised Edwina did not show,” Simon said conversationally, “isn’t she not your girlfriend?”</p><p> </p><p>“She is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yet it is Kate out there dancing with Benedict.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your point?” Anthony asked, raising his eyebrows at Simon.</p><p> </p><p>“Edwina should be the one here tonight,” Simon motioned lightly to the buzzing room. “The one dancing with Benedict. Laughing with Eloise. Chatting with Hyacinth and Gregory.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s busy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like Kate,” Simon told him plainly, finally sparing him a glance. “I am sure Edwina is nice, but Kate is also nice.”</p><p> </p><p>“I feel like you are speaking in riddles,” Anthony’s eyes narrowed on his old friend. “Please simply say what you mean.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you so invested on marrying Edwina?” Simon asked, not beating around the bush any longer. “The Anthony Bridgerton I knew hated the idea of marriage. Hated the idea of being tied down to someone and being torn away from his family. Why the sudden interest in the institution of marriage, and in a girl you barely know or seem interested in?”</p><p> </p><p>“I liked it better when you were speaking in riddles,” Anthony muttered, feeling a headache blooming at his temple.</p><p> </p><p>Simon appeared pleased with himself, picking up his first glass of the night in quiet celebration.</p><p> </p><p>“What are we talking about here?” Daphne sidled up beside her husband, wrapping an arm around him. Leaning to the side she smile blissfully at her brother, a smidge of warning in her gaze. “Nothing too serious I hope?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just toads,” Simon said as if the phrase were explanation enough.</p><p> </p><p>“Toads?” Her perfect brows furrowed, eyes darting between the two.</p><p> </p><p>“How Anthony looks like he swallowed one watching Kate and Benedict,” Simon nodded to the two in question, the unexpected life of the dance floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh<em> I</em> see…” She drawled out, all keen to join in on the teasing. “I’d say they do make a handsome couple…” Kate’s giggle punctuated the observation, her head reeling back in full delight.</p><p> </p><p>His grip tightened on his drink.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony scoffed at the two. “You are both insufferable. Being married to each other only made it worse.” Looking for an escape from any more sly interrogations from the Bassetts, Anthony spotted a lonesome Penelope off to the side, wistfully watching Colin dance with Mother.</p><p> </p><p>The girl had been glued to his brother’s side, nothing new, the two giggling and speaking each other like they were the childhood best friends since the beginning of holiday, rather than Pen and Eloise.</p><p> </p><p>In fact, Anthony was positive he hadn’t see the two girls together, just themselves, at all that week.</p><p> </p><p>“If you’ll excuse me, I have someone to speak to.”</p><p> </p><p>He left before either could say their goodbyes, or rather before her could listen to more of their teasing remarks.</p><p> </p><p>Walking over to Penelope, Anthony offered his warmest smile. “Hello Pen, how you this evening?”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” she said, pleasant and polite. “Your mother always does put on a good party.”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope’s family, the Featheringtons, were close with the Bridgertons, if only by society standards and the fact she and Eloise were friends since infanthood. The strain in the family’s acquaintanceship only came into fruition when the Featherington family had been involved in a nasty gambling scandal.</p><p> </p><p>Penelope, of course, hadn’t gone through the situation unscathed, her own name dragged by the likes of Lady Whistledown. Yet her natural, kind disposition seemed to be her saving grace, able to move on quicker than her family from the scandal. She'd been slowly working through the publishing world, she to make a fine editor one day and Anthony had every intention of bringing her into the family business once the time was right. The right time being when she was his sister-in-law rather than a family friend.</p><p> </p><p>But that did not mean Penelope still didn’t earn a sour eye or two at these types of occasions. All the more reason for Anthony to keep her company.</p><p> </p><p>“That she does,” Anthony nodded once, wondering if he should still engage in the obligator small talk or jump right into his question. “I’m surprised you’re not out there with Colin.”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope glanced at him, a rosy hue tinging her cheeks at the mention of his brother. “I’m fine just watching. I’m more of an observer.” She looked back out to Colin. “And I am sure he’d rather dance with someone more…graceful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Penelope, you are a graceful young woman,” Anthony said, believing it so. If having so many sisters taught Anthony anything, it was sometimes a little encouragement and uplift of self-esteem did wonders. “And I am sure Colin sees that.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s very kind of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Penelope, would you care to dance?” Anthony asked, offering his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Realizing she was in position to say no, he was technically the host after all and a family friend, Penelope accepted his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I promise you won’t regret it,” he assured her, bringing Penelope out to the dance floor.</p><p> </p><p>If his family were going to try to nudge their matchmaking tendencies on him, he just needed to remind them who they were dealing with—the true master of the Bridgerton family.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Hm, that’s odd.”</p><p> </p><p>“What is?” Kate tried to crane her neck around to see where Benedict was referring to.</p><p> </p><p>He turned her in a little half circle, allowing Kate the same vantage point.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony’s dancing,” he explained, nodding over to where Anthony was engaged in a polite subdue waltz with Penelope. “He never dances at these things.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” She found herself looking back to where Anthony was at the edge of the dancefloor, slowly leading Penelope closer to where Colin and Violet. “Does he not know how?” She knew that could not be the case, he moved around with ease and confidence, like it was second nature to lead a woman in a gentle waltz.</p><p> </p><p>“We all know how to dance,” Benedict told her, happy to share the little fact. “Mama wanted all her sons to know how to at least waltz so we had ballroom lessons. It was part of our etiquette classes growing up.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyebrows shot up, her head snapping back to Anthony. In the span of a minute he’d been able to get just a few feet away from his mother and brother, all while chatting lightly with his dance partner.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re telling me Anthony knows ballroom dancing?” She could not help but look back at the man in question with great puzzlement and mirth.</p><p> </p><p>“He was the best out of all of us.” Benedict began to hum along with the classical rendition of ‘Happier.’ “You should dance with him when you get the chance.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate snorted, patting Benedict’s chest as she caught her breath. “Me? Dance with <em>him</em>? You’ve been my dance partner for the last fifteen minutes, you tell me how your feet are doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“My feet are well because you are letting me lead and I keeping you in one place,” he reminded her cheekily. “Can’t step on someone’s foot if you aren’t going anywhere.”</p><p> </p><p>He did have a point. Benedict was clever, probably more clever than his family gave him credit. Yet under all the jovial charm and good-natured disposition, she could not help but notice when the charade faltered.</p><p> </p><p>Just ever so slightly, when he looked away from her to the other faces in the crowd. A slip of disillusion before his smile returned in tenfold ready to twirl her for what felt like the hundredth time that night.</p><p> </p><p>Bridgertons played their parts well, but she was starting to believe a unspeakable pressure was building under the surface. For a few of the siblings at least.</p><p> </p><p>“My brother mentioned you’re an artist,” Benedict said, jumping into the topic full speed ahead. “Watercolors, yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Kate confirmed, “I wanted to get some work done while I’m here. Or at the very least some ideas down.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aubrey Hall is perfect for some dash of inspiration.” She didn’t like how his eyebrows danced up and down as he gave a little nod towards where Anthony danced with Penelope, he somehow bringing them right up to Violet and Colin.</p><p> </p><p>From across the dance floor, his eyes found hers. Determination and a tease twinkled in his dark gaze, as if mentally setting his mark on her.</p><p> </p><p>Violet happily switched partners, Anthony passing off Penelope to Colin.</p><p> </p><p>His gaze darted back to her, a smirk pulling as Violet brought him into a slow and steady waltz.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes narrowed. <em>The sneaky bastard</em>!</p><p> </p><p>Benedict turned to what caught her attention. “How sweet. Colin and Pen are finally dancing together. You know,” his head dipped forward, dropping by her ear to share the little secret, “Anthony and I have a wager on when they’d finally open their eyes and get together. I said by the third week of holiday, Anthony said by the second.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony <em>would</em> pick sooner date, wouldn’t he?</p><p> </p><p>“You want to join in on the wager?” Benedict asked. “You look like you can be a gambling gal,” he joked.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh I am not throwing money at you two,” she said, rolling her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t do money,” Benedict assured her, chuckling, “but on other things. We threw in our cooking days. I win, he takes over my shifts, he wins I take over his.” His lips pursed into a fine line, eyes darting between her and his brother. “But Anthony doesn’t always play fair. The biggest cheat I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Kate wasn’t surprised at all. Anthony did seem like the competitive sort. Terribly so.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s put it this way—he is always banker in <em>Monopoly</em> and he always wins when we play <em>Monopoly</em>.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “But enough about Anthony—you said you wanted to paint while you were here?” he said, swiftly bringing them back to their original conversation.</p><p> </p><p>“I brought some of my supplies,” she continued, “but I don’t want to accidently ruin anything in the house. I make a terrible mess all the time. Even when I try not to.”</p><p> </p><p>The stains on her carpet back at home were evidence enough.</p><p> </p><p>“Then you should work in my studio,” Benedict offered. “The pool house? Just a rock toss away,” he added, slightly swaying them to the side as another couple passed by. “I have great natural light in there, a full wall of windows.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to impose…”</p><p> </p><p>“Not imposing at all,” Benedict stressed. “Stop by the studio Wednesday, after dinner. It’ll be nice to work along another artist for once. Especially one in this house. Lord knows half my siblings don’t have a creative bone in their body.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anyone can be creative,” Kate rebuked lightly, “there is no such thing as a non-creative person. It is simply opening one’s mind to the possibilities around them.”</p><p> </p><p>His stared down at her teasingly. “You remind me of my boarding school art teacher.” Playfully eyed her being. “I wonder if it is the stern face or the colorful wardrobe choice?”</p><p> </p><p>God, she shouldn’t have chosen the pale yellow dress. Daphne had bustled into her room like a woman on a mission, arms laden with dresses she scavenged from nearby town shops. Kate was simply too short and too curvy in places the Bridgeton ladies were not to borrow a dress, Daphne all too pleased to go on a solo shopping trip.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s options were either a deep green, velvet tea length number, the simple long pale yellow—honestly near <em>ivory</em>—dress, or a red gown Kate would never in a million years touch because it was simply too risqué. Too much cleavage and she had enough of <em>that</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She picked the yellow because it was longer and looked <em>okay</em> on her; Mary liked to believe she looked nice in yellow.</p><p> </p><p>And the fact Daphne burst into tears when Kate tried it on. She may have panicked at the sight of tears and picked the dress in hope it would stop Daphne’s crying.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>am</em> an art teacher,” Kate reminded him.</p><p> </p><p>“Then you are in the right profession, my friend.”</p><p> </p><p>A hand tapped Benedict’s shoulder. “Care to trade dance partner’s, brother?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict’s smirked matched Anthony’s seemingly disinterested frown. “I’d be delighted!” He released Kate with a small, polite bow before turning to Violet. “Mother.”</p><p> </p><p>“Benedict,” she greeted her second oldest, placing her arms on his as they danced, as if it were on old past time between the two. She spared a glance to Anthony and Kate, frowning. “Well aren’t you two going to dance? I didn’t pay for the strings to be here this evening to not see dancing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” Anthony breathed, turning to Kate with a polite, smile.</p><p> </p><p>A simple smile hiding a desperate smirk, Anthony practically buzzing, undoubtedly knowing just how much she detested dancing. She had been sitting to the side for most of the evening and denied offers from both Colin and Gregory despite their near begging for her to join them. Benedict only got a dance because he literally dragged her to the dance floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Care to dance, Katherine?” he offered his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Biting the inside of her cheek, she accepted. “Of course, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AHHHH! THEY ARE GOING TO DANCE.</p><p>AHHH! WHO IS ELOISE CALLING?</p><p>AHHHH! WHO WAS ANTHONY TALKING TO IN THE STUDY?</p><p>SOOO MANY QUESTIONS!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Sunday Dinner ~ Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I skimmed the chapter for any mishaps, but it might be okay?</p><p>BTW, I am not a ballroom dancer, but I know a simple waltz! Also I was listening to Vitamin String Quartet's cover of "The Middle" by Zedd while writing the majority of this chapter, like the dance scene if you want to take a listen!</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong> Quarter till Eleven, in the Study…</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“And you know what? You snore! You snore, you always say you don’t but you do!” Eloise’s horse voice grumbled from the opposite side of the desk. “When you asked if it bothers me, I lied! Because it does and it doesn’t but now it does, it really does…”</p><p> </p><p>This was hell.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever Anthony thought hell to be in the past was nothing in comparison to <em>this</em>. Listening to his little sister repeatedly drunk dial the same person and list her grievances of said person—it was man, he could deduce that much—and just sit there useless…</p><p> </p><p>Hell was the only way to describe the situation.</p><p> </p><p>Kate shifted beside Anthony again.</p><p> </p><p>Right. <em>Kate</em>. His unfortunate partner in crime in this scenario.</p><p> </p><p>The woman also one of the reasons why the hellishness of the situation continued to intensify with every passing minute. It didn’t help he and Kate were crouched on the other side of the desk, dressed in semi-formal wear and were pressed against each other like a can of sardines.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps in any other world it would be a fulfillment of an office fantasy. Pressed up to a beautiful woman who drove him on the brink of frustration, alone for once, and kissing the life out of her…but there was nothing in the least lustful or fantasy fulfilling in the moment.</p><p> </p><p>Especially considering he was getting great detail of his sister’s apparent heartbreak. Or the fact he was sitting on the floor, legs pressed to his chest like some child playing hide-and-seek; his back was going to kill him in the morning. While he liked to believe he was a fit and agile man, as he did his best to remain healthy and workout for his entire adult life, he also wasn’t an idiot. Anyone over the age of thirty sitting crouched behind a desk for over thirty minutes was bound to feel <em>some</em> pain in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>Then there was Kate’s constant shifting.</p><p> </p><p>She did not know how to fucking sit still for more than a second.</p><p> </p><p>She was driving him up the wall.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Can you stop moving</em>?” he hissed, her elbow jabbing into his side again.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise continued to blabber, now going off about a meticulous plant watering schedule. She honestly could not know if anything else was happening unless she smacked in the face, so lost in her own world and drunkenness. However he was too afraid to stand and leave the room with Kate; he was positive his nosey sister was coherent enough to notice something like <em>that</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Kate ignored him, shifting until her right arm was pressed again his—at this point when wasn’t one part of her body <em>not</em> pressed to his—trying to sit side by side with him. Again. A stupid attempt considering the last three times she did it, she ended up nearly smacking her head on the underside of the desk.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony caught her elbow before it rammed into his side. Again. “You are going to <em>sit still</em>,” he pulled her until she partially leaning against his chest, his arm around her keeping her firmly in place, “or I will kill you.”</p><p> </p><p>A small scoff and eyeroll was sent his way. But she didn’t shift away from him, listening.</p><p> </p><p>“By the way, I never—<em>never ever</em>—water the cactuses,” Eloise declared, “they’re cactuses! Wait-cactus? Cacti? <em>Cactususes</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t you going to do something?” Kate whispered, tilting her head up to look at him. Her eye make-up was smudge from her tired and absentminded rubbing, dark streaks of eyeliner lingering under her eyes. “She’s drunk dialing, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>“You were the one who pulled me down here,” he reminded her none too kindly. He wanted her to know he was upset, <em>very upset</em>. Extremely upset with her, he could burst. But he didn’t because they were in a compromising position and he didn’t need Eloise to gossip to the rest of the house about him and Kate together in his study.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t want anyone to see us!” The elbow rammed into him again. God, he was going to cut off that elbow! “You had me pressed to the desk—”</p><p> </p><p>His hand slipped up off her shoulder and covered her mouth. “Please, let her hear you,” he gritted out.</p><p> </p><p>He felt her scowl under his hand.</p><p> </p><p>A warm slobber of her tongue slathered across the palm of his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony didn’t flinch. Instead he leaned closer, mouth near her temple, his breath close enough to tickle her ear. “I have seven—<em>seven</em>,” he stressed, “younger siblings. The licking the hand trick does nothing to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Her scowl returned in tenfold. At least she didn’t bite him. He wasn’t too sure if he could he a straight face if she chomped down on his palm. Lord knows he barely kept his composure when she practically snapped at the back of his leg earlier that evening. He still wanted to believe it was a pinch; a very sharp pinch.</p><p> </p><p>“You know your gross sweater? The one with the holes?” Eloise cackled. “I stole it!” She cackled harder, a wheeze laced through. “I stole it, you bastard!”</p><p> </p><p>“To answer your question,” Anthony began quietly, his lips more pressed into her hair to muffle his words and hand still placed over Kate’s mouth, “I am not stopping her because Eloise cannot be stopped once she sets her mind to something. I have learned the hard way…nor will she keep the fact we are here to herself—”</p><p> </p><p>“—<em>I am going to cut that damn sweater up into little pieces and set it on fire</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>“—so we wait until she falls asleep or leaves. Whichever comes first.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s dead eyed stare did nothing to soothe him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>An Hour and a Half Earlier…</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In less than three minutes, she must have stepped on his foot six times.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hid the pain well. He had to have. There was no way he did not feel the pain, Kate wasn’t necessarily one to be light on her feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Benedict kept me in one place,” Kate said, breaking the silence. When he offered a dance, Kate expected one and done. Not for Anthony to keep his grip on her as the first song transitioned into the next. “That’s how he avoided injury.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can handle an injury,” Anthony muttered, unimpressed with his brother. “He’s the one who’d combust into tears at a stubbed toe.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s lips pursed, considering the remark. Benedict <em>did</em> seem sensitive, but not enough to cry over a stubbed toe. At least that’s what she believed; Anthony knew him better, but then again Anthony was Anthony and perhaps not the best judge of character. “I suppose. But I think he’d handle it like a gentleman.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony snorted, not in agreement in the slightest. His hand holding hers, his grip tightened, pulling her toward him as another guest passed by behind her.</p><p> </p><p>Like clockwork, Kate stepped on Anthony’s foot again in her efforts to side step other guests. Her nose wrinkled. “You shouldn’t have pulled me. I can move on my own, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“See that’s the problem,” Anthony drawled out, eyes narrowing down at her, “you don’t let the man lead.”</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows shot up, she recoiling. “What do you mean ‘let the man lead’?”</p><p> </p><p>“You try to lead,” came his blunt explanation. “You try to control the dance when it is not your job, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nobody says the man has to lead.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony rolled his eyes, an exasperated shake of the head accompanying it. “This has nothing to do with a man leading, this isn’t some anti-feminist movement.”</p><p> </p><p>“You make it sound like it is.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you are the one manhandling me every five seconds,” he shot back, head tilting down to match her gaze. “It is like a tug of war here.” To further prove his point, he tried to released Kate’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>Except she had him in an iron grip.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” She hadn’t even realized she was holding him that strong. “I see.” Feeling heat creep up her neck, Kate cleared her throat. “Then…maybe I should lead and you follow.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am <em>not</em> going to follow you.” His grip returned back to how it’d been, and his hand pressing more firmly on her upper back. “That would be letting the blind lead the blind.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you need to be blind sometimes,” she argued, huffing. “The point of the matter is I’m not going to let you lead me no matter what ballroom experience you may or may not have.”</p><p> </p><p>A tinge of red bloomed at the tips of his ears. “Who told you that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Told me what?”</p><p> </p><p>“I know ballroom dancing.” He seemed embarrassed by the fact, a guardedness to him. Kate almost wanted to relish this reaction. But she felt bad…bad enough to not push this particular button too hard.</p><p> </p><p>“No one.” She shrugged, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder or between his eyes; if she was going to be stuck with Anthony for who knows how many dances, she wasn’t going to be coward, avoiding eye contact. She’d stare him dead in the eye, make him see her and listen. “Someone. A person. But it doesn’t matter right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then logically speaking, I should be the one to lead,” he rounded back to argument at hand. “Since I have the apparent experience, I am already in the correct leading position, and you—” This time he did grit his teeth, the hand in hers squeezing firmly at the pain and withheld curse, “—you stepped on my foot. Again.”</p><p> </p><p>“No—”</p><p> </p><p>“My god, Kate, it is a dance, not life or death!”</p><p> </p><p>A few glances were sent there way from other dancing pairs.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps that wasn’t the best analogy in the middle of half-drunk, dancing middle aged guests.</p><p> </p><p>Both gave awkward, polite smiles, before turning back to each other.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think it would hurt you to try.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” she bit out, “<em>fine</em>. Lead—tell me what to do. But mark my words, this is the only time in your life you’ll get to tell me what to do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I will cherish it with every fiber of my being.”</p><p> </p><p>His lips twitched up, a small smirk gracing his lips. A swell of annoyance and a sliver of thrill wound through her at the sight. God, he could be so unabashed around her, she could scream.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony got straight down to business. “First, you need to relax.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am relaxed,” she vexed.</p><p> </p><p>His deadpanned stare told her otherwise. “Relax your shoulders. Just let them drop,” he ordered.</p><p> </p><p>She tried. Honestly, she did. But she <em>couldn’t</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Throughout her life Kate had been told she carried all her tension in her shoulders. All her worries, concerns, the weight of the world—right on top of her shoulders. A therapist once told her it lead to tension headaches and bad posture; Kate thought about that remark more than she’d like to admit.</p><p> </p><p>“I…don’t know how?” she uttered out, wincing at the lame confession.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily, he didn’t mock her for this. Instead his hand on her back lifted away, only to rest on her shoulder a second later. His thumb pressed against the curve of where her neck and shoulder met, warm. “Right here,” his thumb stroked down, the pressure light but encouraging, “let go and relax.”</p><p> </p><p>Her throat dried at the touch, Kate trying her best to focus on relaxing rather than the fact Anthony was caressing her neck. Like he cared. About her. Which was absurd. No man had ever looked at her like <em>that</em>. He was just trying to get her to relax and dance like a normal human being, not step on his feet like Godzilla.</p><p> </p><p>Apparently she must have done something right, Anthony’s hand sliding away to her back once more. “Good,” he muttered. He cleared his throat, his eyes darting down from her shoulder back to her. “Now that you are somewhat relax, I’ll lead and you <em>will not</em> pull back—”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t pull—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stepped back. Kate by reaction, stepped back as well—pulling him like he said she would. Which lead to an awkward standstill. Sighing, she went back to where she stood a moment earlier.</p><p> </p><p>“As I was saying,” Anthony huffed, “you don’t pull. You follow. You have to trust me.”</p><p> </p><p>She chewed her lips together and kept her head held high. “Just tell me where I am supposed to step,” she demanded, urgently shaking their connect arms.</p><p> </p><p>“A simple waltz is a square, you starting with your left foot. I go back, you go forward. Then to the side.” He tilted his head to his left. “Then it’s reversed. I go forward, you go back. Then a step to the other side.” He nodded once to his right. “Very simple.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think I can follow that.” His directions did sound simple enough.</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” His eyes met hers, a silent question in his gaze. “Ready to try?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Without wasting another second, Anthony began to lead their dance. “Step forward…side….back…side…forward….your other left, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>He nudged her to the right direction when she inclined towards the wrong direction, but they kept a steady, slow pace. A pace that didn’t quite match the strings rendition of ‘The Middle’ but they were getting there with every little square. Between them, Anthony mumbled the one word directions until she was confident in her step, eventually dropping them all together.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m doing it!” Kate chuckled, both stunned and enraptured by the fact she was matching for beat and not causing her partner to lose a toe. She stared at the ground, fascinated at how they moved together—the eased stepping back and stepping forward. Almost like it wasn’t her at all, but some alternate reality version of her who was far more confident and graceful. “I’m actually doing it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you are,” Anthony said with his own amused laughter. “You have two feet and are intelligent enough to comprehend explicit directions. You are more than capable of a simple waltz, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>Her head snapped up, mouth agape.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” he asked, blinking down at her surprise. “Why are you looking at me like that?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think you just complimented me.”</p><p> </p><p>He opened his mouth prepared to give a snappy retort back, but seemed to think better of it. “Maybe I did. And what are you going to do about it?”</p><p> </p><p>It was her turn to blink, a flabbergasted grin forming. “I suppose I’d like to hear it again—can you say it more streamline though? Like ‘Kate is intelligent. The most intelligent woman I have ever encountered in my life. She is more than capable of a simple waltz’.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes narrowed, locked on hers, up for the challenge. “Kate is intelligent,” he repeated back, his voice low and soft. No one else could hear him, but her, as if that was his every intention. “The most intelligent woman I have ever encountered in my life. She is more than capable of a simple waltz.”</p><p> </p><p>Her gut swooped down and all the blood evaporating from inside her, her hands and arms tingling.</p><p> </p><p>She hadn’t expected him to utter those silly words back. It was a joke; she’d been <em>joking</em>. Kate expected what she had grown to know as the usual from him—a scoff, an eyeroll, a huff, a fuming and disgruntled stare. Not…not Anthony parroting back the words like her meant them, damn it.</p><p> </p><p>Because saying the words like he meant them was far more cruel than not saying anything at all. Because he didn’t truly mean a word, he was just rising to a challenge and this meant nothing in the wide scope. Because Anthony wanted to marry Edwina—his girlfriend, her sister—and charming Kate was a necessary means.</p><p> </p><p>And Kate was being dumb, allowing herself to be caught up in a sweet moment. Anthony was capable of sweetness, but that did not mean she had always accept it or expect it towards her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate stopped dancing.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nearly stepped on her, but caught himself in time. “What happened?” he asked. “You were doing so well.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not feeling well.” Kate retracted her hands from his, ignoring his puzzled stare. She licked her lips, trying to catch her breath, confused one when she even lost it. “I uh, I need to get some air.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll walk with you—”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” She stepped back, bumping into another couple. She mumbled out an apology before looking back to Anthony, who inched forward, intent on following her. “I…I need to be by myself.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharply, she turned on her heel and fled.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anthony grabbed the first full glass he saw and downed it.</p><p> </p><p>“I hate her. I hate her so much,” he muttered. “She is so infuriating. She wants to be friends. She <em>doesn’t</em> want to be friends. She can’t make up her fucking mind.” He picked up another glass, nose wrinkling at the white blend. He was more of red, merlot person, but he wasn’t going to complain at the moment. He just need something to take blind him, make him forget about Kate and her stupidness and rashness and whatever else-ness because she was too much. Too much of everything and it annoyed him to no end.  “I teach her how to dance and then she runs like I’m the one who repeatedly stepped on her foot. The fucking gall of that woman.”</p><p> </p><p>“And why are you telling me this?”</p><p> </p><p>He gulped the wine, sparing a glance at his sibling before realizing his mistake. “Oh, sorry Francesca.” The girl in question’s frown deepened. “I thought you were Daphne.”</p><p> </p><p>“Daphne and I look nothing alike.” His younger sister seemed rather upset with the comparison.</p><p> </p><p>“You two actually look a lot alike from behind,” he admitted, not apologetic in slightest. “It’s the height and hair color—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I’ll dye my hair blue!” She picked up a drink and march away, not bothering with a goodbye.</p><p> </p><p>A familiar giggle and snort sounded from behind him. “Francesca is going to hate you forever if she hasn’t already.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony turned around, finding the sibling he actually wanted to talk to. “Daphne—”</p><p> </p><p>She held her hand up. “Simon and I saw everything. As did anyone who was around you,” she added with a pitiful smile. “But don’t worry, something else is bound to happen tonight to make everyone forget you were abandoned on the dance floor by Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>A shrieking, drunken laughter echoed across the room.</p><p> </p><p>Both whipped their heads around to find Eloise with a concerned Benedict, she attempting to do the macarena and nudging her brother to do the same. Luckily he humored her, doing the dance and motioning the string quartet to play the tune.</p><p> </p><p>No one else joined the number, instead watching with various degrees of bemusement and befuddlement.</p><p> </p><p>“Something like that,” Daphne said, coming to stand beside Anthony. She had a glass of water in her hand, the drink in a wine glass.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s not going to remember a thing in the morning,” Anthony surmised, taking an absentminded sip from his glass.</p><p> </p><p>“Nope.” Her nose wrinkled, eying her sister, then a side glance to the wine in his hand. “And that smells dreadful.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s set the glass down immediately. “Are you okay?” he asked, not liking the sudden paleness in her cheeks. “Do you need something? More water, somewhere to sit?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been fine for most of the night but,” she side glanced the refreshments again, “but for some reason the smell of alcohol for the last half hour has been…” Her face scrunched up, disgusted. She swallowed tightly, clearly in discomfort.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s get you out of here for a bit.”</p><p> </p><p>Sparing a small glance around the room to check if the coast was clear—everyone was still watching Eloise and Benedict’s subpar performance—Anthony led Daphne away from the party. He didn’t venture too far, knowing she’d want to return to Simon as soon as she felt well again, but took her somewhere he knew other guests wouldn’t dare to enter.</p><p> </p><p>“No one should bother us here,” Anthony said, opening the door to his study. He allowed Daphne to enter, shutting the door once they were both inside. He tugged on the nearby lamp light, a warm glow spanning the dull, cool room. “If they do, I’ll just never invite them to a Bridgerton function again.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne sent him a disapproving frown. “You know Mother would never approve. She makes the guest lists, doesn’t matter if it is your bank account she is charging to.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the family’s bank account,” Anthony amended. “Just as much hers as it is mine. Just as it is for all our siblings.” And it was, his mother once as apart of the family business as his father before his passing. As she aged, she simply did not like having control of the family finances and Anthony didn’t mind managing the funds and inheritances for the family. He was fine handling siblings tuition fees, rent, and the of other miscellaneous expenses Bridgertons a crewed. It was his job to make sure his family was comfortable, and he’d see to it until his last breath. “Just as it will be for my nephew or niece. Because they are Bridgetons and Bridgertons take care of each other.”</p><p> </p><p>His sister didn’t remark on the matter, her stance already clear. She wanted him to be firmer and less hands on with their siblings. Live his life and not manage others. A task easier said than done.</p><p> </p><p>“Take a seat. You are making me anxious just standing there,” Anthony ordered, walking past Daphne to his windows behind his desk. “Like you’ll go into labor any minute if you don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>His sister snorted. “I’m only a few months along. I cannot go into labor just yet, you know that.” Yet she did not listen, instead observing the room with sad fascination. “It’s just…I never really realized it until now, but you haven’t change anything in here. Nothing at all, not since…”</p><p> </p><p>“I have,” Anthony argued, throwing open the heavy curtains. “I put in a router for the WIFI. Took out the old computer…” He stared out the window, trying to think of what other upgrades he’d done to the study since he inherited the room. “I chucked the fax machine. No one uses a fax machine anymore, scanning is the way to do it.” He sometimes need to ask his assistant or Gregory to help him scan papers, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the technology.</p><p> </p><p>“You have a landline,” Daphne stated plainly. “No one has a landline.”</p><p> </p><p>“Landlines are brilliant in the event of an emergency.” He unlatched the window, pushing it open. His sister needed fresh air and this was the best they were going to get. He turned back to Daphne. “Come stand over here—”</p><p> </p><p>Then he saw <em>her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Tucked under his desk, lips chewed together in a desperate attempt to keep any sound from being uttered, and eyes unbelievably, dreadfully wide was <em>Kate</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He was livid at the sight of her. Beyond livid, a cold fury that struck him down to the core. He wanted to pull her out from under the desk and shake all the sense he could into her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate didn’t even hide the fact she’d been caught! Her eyes were locked on his, not looking a faction away, frozen in horror.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you alright Anthony?” Daphne asked coming around the desk to him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”</p><p> </p><p>He leapt up, dragging Daphne over to the window before she could even think about glancing any other way. “Just remembered this massive email I need to send in the morning,” he hurried out. “But it does not matter. I shouldn’t even be thinking of it in the first place.” He set his sister firmly in place of the open window, she inhaling deeply as a brush of cool air breezed by.</p><p> </p><p>Sensing his sister would stay put, Anthony stepped back until his legs bumped into the back of the desk. He leaned against it, effectively blocking any sight of his fiendish intruder.</p><p> </p><p>But then she had the nerve to yank on his trouser.</p><p> </p><p>He kicked her back, trying to shake the damn woman off.</p><p> </p><p>A hand swatted at his calf, <em>hard</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, part of me misses living out here,” Daphne mused, hands pressed to the window seal as she leaned out further. “I know most of our siblings don’t remember it, living in town after Father’s passing, but I do. I’m sure you do too…”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony glanced down, finding Kate trying to slowly creep out, like she could escape. With little remorse, he pressed his heel down light and quick on her hand.</p><p> </p><p>A faint hiss came from under the desk.</p><p> </p><p>“I know that’s odd. I never really talk about Father and everything surrounding it,” Daphne continued, sighing. “But I’ve been thinking about him more ever since the pregnancy and…and it’s making me thinking about what life I want for my children.”</p><p> </p><p>A near bite-like pinch twisted on his calf. Anthony gritted his teeth.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, god—did <em>she</em> use <em>her</em> teeth?</p><p> </p><p>Daphne whirled around to him. “Don’t you ever think about those things? What you’d want for your children one day?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was floored by the question, his little tiff with Kate forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>His sister was serious and scared. He was reminded again just how young she was despite her maturity.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he said, honest. “I do. Sometimes. But to be perfectly honest, I don’t think children are in my future. Or at least, me being there to raise them.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne frowned, troubled by his response. He expected such from her, his sister too caring for her own good. “You’re thirty-five.”</p><p> </p><p>“Almost thirty-six.”</p><p> </p><p>“You still have plenty of life ahead of you,” she assured him, stepping away from the window. “Thirty-five is still considered young for a man,” a disbelieving scoff bubbled from down within her, “before you know it, you’ll get married and have your own children. I’m sure of it.” A wistfulness surrounded her. “Imagine it—our children being best friends and playing outside Aubrey Hall and out in the garden…” She sighed, her fear fading away with the happier thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>Happier thoughts Anthony did not have the heart to argue against.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you brother for letting me escape for a moment,” Daphne said, walking back around the desk towards the study door. Anthony eased away from his desk, quick to follow her. Mostly to keep her catching a glimpse of his stowaway. “But I fear my husband will start looking for me soon...” She stepped up to the door, pausing. “And before you ask—I will tell him. Soon. Just…give me until the end of the month.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure you won’t be showing by the end of the month?” he shot back, unable to help himself but to put the pressure. The last Daphne and Simon had a fight…well it wasn’t pretty. He didn’t want to witness another one because she didn’t want to share her news.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne’s lips pursed. “Just keep quiet. I cannot stand the idea of another person in this house knowing.” She opened the door, leaving the study with a small wave.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony waited a total of three seconds before charging back to his desk in a few quick strides. “You,” he bellowed, “show yourself, now.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate made quick to scramble out from under the desk, but not fast enough to his liking. Anthony grasped her by the forearms and hauled her upright, forcing her to look at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony,” she began, “I can explain—”</p><p> </p><p>He did not want to talk in circles, he wanted to…he wanted to…</p><p> </p><p>By god, he wanted to <em>kiss</em> her.</p><p> </p><p>Truthfully so. Press her lips to his. To feel close to her. Closer than they were while dancing.</p><p> </p><p>But he couldn’t. He <em>could not</em> kiss her no matter how much the stupid idea blasted loud and clear in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>So he said the next best thing—</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I am going to kill you</em>!”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Eleven-forty-five, in the Study…</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Eloise had not spoken for quite some time.</p><p> </p><p>Both Kate and Anthony were too cautious to dare move from behind the desk.</p><p> </p><p>Checking Anthony’s watch (the very same arm that had been firmly around her for well over and hour and had not relented no matter how much she squirmed) for the umpteenth time that night since hiding, Kate sighed. It was almost midnight and by the sounds of it, the party had come to end despite their disappearance.</p><p> </p><p>“I think we can check in on her, unless you want to camp here for the night?” she whispered.</p><p> </p><p>Disgust marred his face. “No. God no.” Carefully he extracted his arm from around her, a distinct creak and crack of bones heard. “Fuck, that’s going to hurt later.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate rocked away from his side, ready to stand, except her legs felt numb and buzzing. “Damn it,” she muttered, pushing herself to her knees. She was beyond glad she had enough sense to kick off her heels earlier in their hiding, unable to imagine standing in the death traps with sleepy legs.</p><p> </p><p>Beside her, Anthony slowly eased up, checking above the desk. He exhaled, relieved. “She’s asleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank god.” Kate wanted to cry tears of joy. Excruciating was only the tip of the iceberg concerning Eloise’s voicemail laments, not to mention she was sitting on the most uncomfortable surface on the planet. “I thought it’d never end.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony grunted. He braced his hands on the desk, taking his time to stand back up to his full height. Once he was up, he offered a hand to her.</p><p> </p><p>She accepted. Something akin to camaraderie emerged between them while sitting crouched behind the desk together, Anthony gentler to her contrary to his claims of killing her hours earlier.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to kill him.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyes snapped to Anthony, arm in a mid-stretch.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t sound on the brink of an explosive breakdown, like he’d been with her. Nor did he sound like he was venting. The phrase was a figure of speech to Anthony, Kate surmised that much.</p><p> </p><p>But there was nothing metaphorical about the phrase in the moment.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was dead serious. “I am going to kill him,” he repeated, eyes darting from Eloise’s sleeping form to Kate. “I’m going to find this <em>Philip</em>,” he spat the name, “and kill him.”</p><p> </p><p>“You cannot kill every single person who has wronged your family,” Kate said, though she was useless to try to be a voice of reason. Anthony was a stubborn sort.</p><p> </p><p>“If it was Edwina in Eloise’s shoes, would you not do the same too?” he asked, jaw locked.</p><p> </p><p>Kate sighed. Well, that wasn’t a fair question. “Of course I would! If someone broke Edwina’s heart, I’d make the bastard suffer and he’d never live to tell the tale.”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly,” Anthony motioned to her, a new festering energy to him, “you understand! You understand the importance keep all these idiots safe, or…” He stepped around the desk, staring down at his sister. “Or bullshit like this happens.”</p><p> </p><p>She came to his side, pity rising in her. “I know, but you cannot go find this Philip and terrorize him. ”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s grand coming from you.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate scrubbed her face; she did not need to deal with his snarky attitude at this hour. “I get it! I’m a hypocrite! I know that about myself,” she huffed, arms flopping to her side. “But the difference is…she loves him and clearly he must love her! I mean, they have potted plants together, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>His frown remained intact. Not even a twitch or flinch. Damn. “Plants she didn’t water.”</p><p> </p><p>Realizing there was no way of swaying him from not terrorizing the man who broke his sister’s heart—even though she did agree with his anger and reasons to do so, <em>she did</em>—Kate decided to not provoke the bear.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony picked up the dangling receiver and set it back in its cradle. “She’s clever. Using the landline. It’s so old, it doesn’t have redial.” He picked up a few more his scattered belongs, all on ground from her desk climb.</p><p> </p><p>Kate refrained a remark on the fact he even had a landline in the first place, let alone one <em>without</em> redial. Coming to Eloise’s side, she brushed the hair out of her eyes and tried to get her in a more comfortable position than half folded off the armchair. “I feel so bad for her. She seems like she was bottling this up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise does that,” Anthony rejoined her, a pensiveness rattling up his body. “Keeps things to herself, but willing comments on everyone else’s lives.” He began to gather Eloise, ready to pick her up like one would a child, before hesitating. “I…would you mind…uh—”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you need help there, old man?” Kate quipped, watching him struggle to form the words.</p><p> </p><p>He scowled at her, a flush spreading from his neck to his ears. “No—<em>yes</em>—I don’t want to pull my back since I was sitting on that damn floor for over an hour.” He nodded to Eloise. “Just help me get her up and off the chair and I can handle the rest.”</p><p> </p><p>Smothering down her teasing grin, she crouched down beside Eloise and carefully wedged her arms under her. “On the count of three?”</p><p> </p><p>“One, two—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Three</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>They lifted the dead weight girl up, Eloise off the armchair and in Anthony’s arms in one swift moment. Kate helped lull Eloise’s head on Anthony’s shoulder than dangling around like a ragdoll, her hands hovering by his side.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure you got it?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Just get the doors and make sure we don’t bump into anything,” he ordered, already walking towards the study’s exit.</p><p> </p><p>Kate hurried along, opening the door for him. Silently, they traveled up through the house, passing event staff as they cleaned up for the night. Together they carefully brought Eloise’s up the stairs, Kate working as Anthony’s eyes for each step up. Thankfully, the rest of the trek had little mishap, the two able to bring Eloise into her room without bumping into any other Bridgertons.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony took over tucking Eloise into bed, Kate stepping aside as he worked on autopilot. Ruffling the duvet, making the pillows comfortable for his sister, and even going as far to click on a nightlight plugged into the opposite wall.</p><p> </p><p>He handed her an empty glass. “Go fill that with water from the bathroom tap.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate did as told, coming back with a cool, filled glass a few minutes later. As she was about to reenter Eloise’s bedroom, a muffled groan came from the girl.</p><p> </p><p>Taking a step back, Kate paused in the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony…?” Eloise murmured, seeing her brother sitting at the edge of her bed. She smothered her face deeper into her pillow, eyes drooping as she looked at him. “Wha’ are you doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just checking in on you, El,” he assured her.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not eight,” his sister told him, flopping an arm his was, as if to wave him off. “I don’t…need you to check in…on me at night anymore,” she struggled to get out, mouth smacking. “God, my mouth is dry as hell.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate inched into the room, setting down the glass at Eloise’s bedside. “Here, this might help.”</p><p> </p><p>“Awe,” Eloise cooed, blerrie eyes sliding from Anthony to Kate. “You’re here. You’re both here. Like a mummy and daddy,” she giggled out, eyes closing for slumber once more.</p><p> </p><p>“Get some sleep, El.” Anthony patted his sister’s head, smoothing down her fringe. “And hopefully you’ll remember none of tonight in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, he stood and left the room. Kate followed, though not without glancing back into the room, a strange longing and melancholy seeping into her.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony left the door open a crack. “Don’t worry. She’ll be okay. A headache for us in the morning with her moaning about a bloody hangover, but she’ll live.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. But an older sibling’s worry never ends.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hummed in vague agreement, the two starting to walk to their own rooms on the opposite side of the hall. As they passed by each room, Anthony paused, taking a subtle step towards the door, before thinking better. As though it were a habit to check in on each of his siblings before bed.</p><p> </p><p>If he noticed that <em>she</em> noticed his little tick, then he didn’t comment on it.</p><p> </p><p>Soon they were in front of her bedroom, Newton’s faint doggy snores coming from inside. “I guess this is good night,” Kate bumped his shoulder with her fist, attempting lightheartedness, “<em>buddy</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re friends now?” he asked, brows furrowing. “I was positive you told me less than two days ago we <em>weren’t</em> friends.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then partners in crime,” she amended. “Because you literally told me you wanted to commit a crime against a man who wronged your sister and I may have somewhat encouraged it?”</p><p> </p><p>A laugh huffed through his nose.  “I think partner in crime is fitting. You’ll help me hide the body, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” she agreed, finding herself smiling despite her fatigue. “I’ll even bring a shovel.”</p><p> </p><p>However their light moment did not last long, Anthony becoming serious once more. “Kate, what you heard tonight—”</p><p> </p><p>“Keep it to myself,” she rolled her eyes, “I know—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m serious.” His eyes bore into hers, fierce. “This isn’t some silly Bridgerton Sibling Secret. The matter with Daphne’s…condition…” He glanced around the hall, chewing hard on the inside of his cheek. His hands clamped down on her shoulders, Anthony hunching over to meet her sternly, “no one—I mean, <em>no one</em>—can know. That is to stay between Daphne and I.” He shook his head, leaning away. “I shouldn’t even know, but…” he swallowed tightly. “She’s my sister. I’m her older brother. I take care of her when she needs help.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate rested her hand on his, keeping his hand there on her shoulder. Keeping him close so he could understand; for him to know she meant no harm. “I know. I won’t say anything to anyone. Not even S—”</p><p> </p><p>“Especially him.”</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t say anything.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nodded once, tension finally teetering off his shoulders. “Good, good.”</p><p> </p><p>It was then Kate realized Anthony was more than just a brother to his siblings, nor did he see himself as a simple older brother. He was a father-figure, the older male presence in their lives. He was the one who tucked his youngest siblings into bed, who made sure to scare the monsters away and make sure their nightlights were flicked on. He was the one his siblings ran to when they were in need of help, too afraid to go to their mother but needing <em>someone</em>. He knew their studies, he checked in on them, he kept them in line.</p><p> </p><p>If Kate did the math right…Anthony was eighteen when his father passed. An eighteen year old who suddenly needed to be older brother, friend, confidant, and stand-in father for his family as his mother grieved.</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t imagine being in his position at that age. Yes, she lost her father when she was seventeen, but she had Edwina and Mary. Edwina was older, Mary had always been her mother in all essence of the word. She did not have to bare responsibility at an instant, nor did she feel she had to.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a good brother.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony blinked down at her. “I…” He was at a loss for words. “I’m sorry, what?”</p><p> </p><p>“You are a good brother,” she repeated. “Has anyone ever told you that? Because you are.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t say anything for a moment, licking his lips in deep thought, a bit stunned by her compliment.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like to hear it again—can you say it more <em>streamline</em> though,” he said, a quirk to his lips despite his resistance, “can you say ‘Anthony is a good brother and the greatest man I have ever encountered in my life.’ And say it a little louder, so I can hear you clearly.” His full blown smirk formed as the familiar words finally donned on her.</p><p> </p><p>It was the very same way she demanded he repeat his compliment to her.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, this man was going to be the death of her!</p><p> </p><p>“Good night, Anthony,” she gritted out, shaking off his hold.</p><p> </p><p>“Good night, Kate.” He strode the short four feet to his door, then paused. He glanced her way, waiting.</p><p> </p><p>It was then she realized he was waiting for her to go to her room, making sure she went to bed. As he impulsively done for his siblings.</p><p> </p><p>She hated how the mere thought of the gesture warmed her heart.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>IT WAS DAPHNE IN THE STUDY.</p><p>THEY DANCED.</p><p>ANTHONY WANTS TO KISS KATE AND KATE IS STARTING TO CATCH FEELS.</p><p>AHHHH SO MUCH HAPPENED....</p><p>And the next update probably won't be until Monday-Tuesday tbh.....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Gossip of Aubrey Hall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We have a fun surprise in this chapter--A DIFFERENT POV *gasp*</p><p>Typos will be fixed later.</p><p>Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Mornings after were terrible in general. Anyone who’d experienced a killer hangover could attest.</p><p> </p><p>But Bridgerton morning afters…</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god, is that coffee?”</p><p> </p><p>Colin cried out upon entering the kitchen. He practically slid into the room, bumping right into Anthony’s side. He was in boxers and a t-shirt, not carrying for decency in the slightest. Anthony had half the mind to scold him, but then remember Colin was twenty-eight, as the forever child-like man liked to whine.</p><p> </p><p>He inhaled the warm, rich aroma of coffee. “Brother dear, I know you are not a giver at heart—” Anthony rolled his eyes at the accusation, “—nor the most kind in these type of mornings—” Again, another eyeroll. Colin was really laying it on thick, “—but I believe you made this pot of coffee out of the goodness of your heart for your family—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nudged a gob smacked Colin away.</p><p> </p><p>“This is all for yourself?” His brother waved to the pot, in complete distraught.</p><p> </p><p>Grabbing the thermos from the cupboard, Anthony ignored his brother’s pleading puppy dog eyes. It was very uncomforting for a man his age to look at him like that.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you enjoy the good caffeinated drink,” Colin continued to prattle, “but I never knew you to be cruel to deny everyone else and keep it for just yourself—”</p><p> </p><p>“I never said it was just for me.” Anthony unscrewed the top of the thermos. “It’s for me and…Kate.” He mumbled her name. He didn’t expect anyone else to barge into the kitchen at seven in the morning, but low and behold Colin proved him wrong.</p><p> </p><p>Colin lit up at the mention of the eldest Sheffield. “Kate? Our dear Katherine?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Picking up the filled pot, Anthony filled the thermos. “She’s out walking Newton and—”</p><p> </p><p>“And you are going to find her and have a little morning coffee, <em>hm</em>?” Colin finished, half folding himself against the counter. His head was propped up in the palm of his hand, arms rest on the counter, and staring up at Anthony as though he were world’s eighth wonder.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony clicked his tongue, looking away from his brother, and focusing back to filling the thermos. “Yes. But it’s not like how you are making it sound. It’s just coffee.”</p><p> </p><p>“So many things start with ‘<em>just coffee’</em>…” Colin raised his eyebrows up and down in a little dance. “If you and her are…<em>ya know</em>,” he shrugged, “I won’t say anything.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s head snapped to him. “It’s not like <em>that</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin stood back up, hands up in surrender. “So you say…”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not,” he spat, already feeling a tension headache blooming. “Kate and I are…friends.”</p><p> </p><p>He hated how unsure he sounded. But it wasn’t his fault!</p><p> </p><p>They had never explicitly agreed to be friends, but after the previous nights events, he liked to think they were. Or at least were partners in crime, as they agreed to be. Wasn’t that friends adjacent at least?</p><p> </p><p>Which reminded him why exactly he wanted to go out and find her.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, friends,” Colin drawled out, edging over to the mug cupboard. “Friends who sneak around the halls at night, whispering to each other…”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony slowly turned to his brother, coffee forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean ‘sneaking around at night’?”</p><p> </p><p>Colin shifted closer to him, snatching the pot of coffee and filling half his mug. “I heard you two. Last night. And the other night. You do know walls are paper thin here right?</p><p> </p><p>But that wasn’t what hung up Anthony. “How could you possibly know if Kate and I were,” he hated using his brother’s term but he didn’t have much a choice, “‘sneaking around at night’? Your room is at the opposite end of the hall!” While Aubrey Hall was old—so old, the yearly restoration costs caused Anthony’s head to spin—it wasn’t as paper thin as his siblings liked to bemoan. No one could here whispers or small talk for the complete other end of the hall, unless…</p><p> </p><p>His younger brother froze, eyes wide. He sipped his coffee. “Wow, this is delicious! What brand is this—”</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s room were you in?” Anthony asked, not beating around the bush. Perhaps already knowing the answer. “On that end, it’s me, Kate, Francesca, Eloise, Gregory, and Penelope.” Colin pursed his lips, eyes glued to the rim of his mug. “Because I know for a fact it wasn’t Kate—”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you were with her?” Colin could not help himself, could he?</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Anthony muttered out, “we were together last night, but not in the way you are thinking.” He felt like a broken record, constantly defending himself—and to Colin of all people! “Eloise was black-out drunk. I can’t remember the last time you and Francesca even had a conversation, and Gregory wouldn’t let you near his room with a ten-foot pole which leaves—"</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, fine,” Colin hissed, slumping against the counter. “I was in Penelope’s room,” he hurried out, eyes darting to the kitchen door.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s eyebrows shot up. Oh my, how the tables had turned. His shock morphed into a new-found glee. “Colin, are you and Penelope together?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Colin shook his head, alarmed by the suggestion, “of course not.”</p><p> </p><p>All his joy for his brother vaporized in an instant. “Then what are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a friendly thing,” Colin explained, tilting his head to the side in thought. “Like…we are friends, but we do more than what friends do from time to time.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony leaned over to his brother’s side, hands braced on the counter. He kept his voice low and still, head ducked down, unable to look at him as the implications became startlingly clear. “Are you telling me you and her are fuck-buddies, Colin?”</p><p> </p><p>His brother shrugged, before shifting away from him altogether. “We don’t like that term. We prefer ‘friends-with-benefits’.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin was the brother Anthony never really did entertain the thought of killing. Mostly because Colin wasn’t like Benedict, who had a habit of getting into chaos behind closed curtains, away from the family’s eyes, and not a ridiculous, hormone ridden teenage boy like Gregory. Colin was good, annoying as hell and ate all the groceries, but a good man.</p><p> </p><p>And this…was decidedly not good. In the slightest.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What the hell is wrong with you</em>?” Anthony growled, grabbing a lingering dish towel and chucking it at Colin’s head. His brother dodged with ease.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! Like you’re one to talk!” Colin gave a small scoff, taking another sip of coffee. “You’re like the king of one night stands in this family.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony bit the inside of cheek, feeling his frustration and anger build at lightning speed. That was a low blow and he wasn’t going to warrant the comment with a response. Instead, he need to knock some damn sense into his brother. “Are you an idiot, Colin? Please tell me if you are an idiot?”</p><p> </p><p>His brother groaned, head lulling back against the cupboard behind him. “I don’t understand what the problem is—”</p><p> </p><p>“The problem is,” Anthony began, trying his best to bring down his voice, “she is your friend. She is your family’s friend. You sister’s best friend, and in a friends-with-benefits situation someone always catches feelings and someone always gets hurt in the end, <em>that’s</em> the problem.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin stared at him, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Anthony never scolded him in earnest over personal matters, never. This was a first.</p><p> </p><p>“Well…” Colin cleared his throat. “Pen and I aren’t you and Siena.”</p><p> </p><p>A ‘fuck you’ was on the tip of his tongue. But Anthony swallowed it. He loved Colin. He did, and Colin was a man. A man who could make his own decisions even if they were idiotic ones.</p><p> </p><p>Colin was also his brother who knew him well, and could apparently twist a knife of words into him if he so pleased.</p><p> </p><p>So Anthony closed his thermos and left for the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony, I—”</p><p> </p><p>He paused, turning back to his brother. “I’m going to pretend we didn’t have this conversation,” Anthony told him, sharp. “And I know you and her and not like Siena and I. Siena wasn’t even my friend. But Pen is yours…” He didn’t want his brother to get hurt, or for Penelope’s feelings to get twisted up—he cared for both of them greatly to know this could very well be an implosion waiting to happen. “And she isn’t a girl you fuck around with and you know that.”</p><p> </p><p>His brother didn’t look guilty, but there was a sense of frustration in his gaze.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony left the house before another exchange could be made. He didn’t want to be thinking about Colin, not when he had Eloise to worry about, then there was Daphne and Simon, not to mention his mother who always seemed to have a hop to her step these days.</p><p> </p><p>God, he could never catch a break, could he?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Newt,” Kate crouched down beside him, giving him a good pet. “Just go poo already. It’s not that hard, you do it every day. You even do it when you are not supposed to.”</p><p> </p><p>Newton looked up at her, then licked her nose, delighted to be close.</p><p> </p><p>“Kisses are not going to win me over.”</p><p> </p><p>“Duly noted.” A familiar—handsome, aggravating, all around warming—chuckle came from behind her. “Won’t go in for a kiss any time soon.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate looked up to find Anthony standing a few paces away, a thermos in hand. “Ha-ha,” she deadpanned. “I wasn’t talking to you,” she grumbled, unassumed by the joke. She didn’t want to entertain the thought of kissing him at all. Because it would be wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. At least…that’s what she reminded herself repeatedly. “I was speaking to Newton.”</p><p> </p><p>An exasperated sigh escaped Anthony, he coming over to her and Newton. “Leash, please.”</p><p> </p><p>Pursing her lips, she handed it off, Anthony passing off the thermos. Standing up, she unscrewed the cap, taking a sniff. “Coffee?”</p><p> </p><p>He hummed in acknowledgement, starting to lead Newton further away from the house and up the hill towards the lake. Kate was quick to catch up with him, matching him for pace.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t need to bring me coffee,” she told him, finding the gesture sweet but odd. She was planning on getting a cup when she returned back to the house.</p><p> </p><p>“I wanted to talk to you without the potential of the family interrupting,” Anthony explained, Newton happily trotting along beside him. That damn dog adored Anthony so much, she was beginning to wonder if she’d have to share joint custody with him by the end of the month. “I figured it be easier to meet you out here.” He then glanced at her, Kate ready to take a large gulp from the thermos. “And the coffee is not all for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” she lowered the container, sheepish, “right. Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head with a good-natured grin. “Be patient. There’s a bench up this way. You can have your coffee then.”</p><p> </p><p>Just as his said, a few more paces up, Anthony led her down a well-worn dirt path. Shrubbery and bushes surrounded the way, before opening up to a clearing beside the lake.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this the part where you murder me?” Kate asked, unable to stop the remark once it popped into her head.</p><p> </p><p>“Unfortunately no,” Anthony informed her, leading her to the old wooden bench just off lake’s bed. Newton ambled towards the edge of the lake, content to lap water and sunbath in the quiet morning glow. “All my plans to murder you are now thrown out the window considering you now know valuable information.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate chuckled, taking a seat beside him. “Glad I have value now.”</p><p> </p><p>“You always have value.”</p><p> </p><p>She loathed how earnest he sounded. Like he really believed it, even when she knew he didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Setting the thermos between them, she separated the two mug cap and handed one to him. “So…what is this thing you wanted to talk to me about that nobody else can know?” she asked, pouring coffee into both mugs.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sipped his coffee, mouth in a sour frown. “I found him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who?”</p><p> </p><p>“Phillip.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate choked on her coffee.</p><p> </p><p>He <em>what</em>? How the hell did he make that happen, that fast?</p><p> </p><p>Struggling to catch her breath, she coughed, finding air back in her lungs after what seemed to be a solid minute. Anthony, of course, paid her no mind—just smirking behind his mug as he watched her. “What do you mean you found him? It hasn’t even been a day!”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Anthony exhaled, readjusting his left hand on Newton’s leash, “technically I haven’t found him yet. But I will know by this afternoon.”</p><p> </p><p>She blinked at him, still stunned by the speediness of it all. “How? Did you hire someone—wait, please tell me you didn’t riffle through Eloise’s belongings or invade her privacy”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony whirled on her, aghast. “Of course not! I have a university friend—”</p><p> </p><p>“You have friends?” Kate asked, find herself genuinely surprised. Anthony wasn’t the friendly type, despite his occasional charm, and Edwina made him sound, well, lonely. There was also the fact she hadn’t seen him contact anyone other than his family and herself.</p><p> </p><p>He scoffed, drinking more of his coffee. “Okay…maybe ‘friend’ is stretch, but an old classmate from uni owes me a favor and he works as an investigator. He told me he’d get me a full name and address by this afternoon.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s jaw dropped. “Anthony!” She smacked his arm, their coffee jostling. “You hired a P.I.?”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned out of her reach. “He’s not a P.I., I am not paying him. It is a favor and I want to find this bastard!”</p><p> </p><p>“And then do what?” Kate asked, trying to be the logical thinker of the two. “Let’s say you find him, what are you going to do? Beat the shit out of him?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony paused, considering the thought. “Perhaps…” he then sighed, leaning back into the bench, “I don’t know. I didn’t think that far.” He whistled, calling Newton over. The doggo was getting too close to the lake, and while he’d be fine in the shallow, neither wanted him to fall in and get wet. “It’s not so much about doing anything,” Anthony confessed, setting his mug down to pet Newton, “it’s just more about know <em>who</em> he is. Eloise has never kept something this big from us—I want to know why.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then ask her,” Kate suggested, seeing the solution right before them. “Ask her why she hasn’t ever mentioned him.”</p><p> </p><p>“And tell her how I found out?” Anthony shot back. “No, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Well, she supposed he did have a point there.</p><p> </p><p>“But when I do find him, I want you to come with me.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate turned to him, surprised. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you’re the only one who gets it.”</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t argue with that logic. Perhaps anyone else would convince him to not find Eloise’s Philip, but Kate could not, because she knew she’d do the same if she were if his shoes and had his connections.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” She lulled her head back. “I’ll go.” The sun peeking in and out of the grey clouds, a gentle warmth raying down upon them. Whenever the sun came out to play, Kate made her mission to be outside, loving the feel of the sun’s welcoming caress.</p><p> </p><p>She peeked an eye open. Across the bench, Anthony watched her, for once not looking like he was trying to dissect her or find a way to scream his head off at her…but just watched her, openly.</p><p> </p><p>Kate did not know what to make of it.</p><p> </p><p>So instead, she talked. “But I’m not going to drive.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wouldn’t dream of letting you drive.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anthony had not intended to spend the morning with Kate…but it sort of just <em>happened</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He was starting to realize this was becoming a startling occurrence during his time with her.</p><p> </p><p>The sun had decided to stay out and Kate was keen to spend her time outside walking with Newton around the grounds. Anthony, who did not want to bump into any of siblings after what had transpired the previous night and that morning, decided spending time with Kate and Newton was a decent distraction.</p><p> </p><p>After a few rambunctious games of fetch and tug of war with Newton, Anthony was starting to see the appeal of the damn dog.</p><p> </p><p>He was a happy little fellow, with his short legs and doggy smile, enough to warm the coldest heart. And Anthony’s heat could be cold.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not going to want to walk back,” Kate warned. “You’ll exhaust him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I’ll carry him,” Anthony told her, not liking the worried pinch between her brows. He was in the middle of giving Newton plenty of belly rubs, the dog panting and squirming excitedly at the pets. “He’s not that heavy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure thing, old man,” she remarked, arms crossed over her chest as she watched them. “Just don’t complain to me when he weights like bricks and you have to lug a smelly dog down the hill.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate didn’t seem to believe him, but Anthony did not care. He was having a good time for once, Kate not biting his head off and Newton bringing a good dose of serotonin.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing could ruin that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“What on earth are they doing out there?”</p><p> </p><p>Violet looked up from her tea to find Eloise at the sunroom’s doorway. She hadn’t expected her daughter to wake up any time soon—perhaps not until later in the afternoon—considering the display she put on the night before. But the sight of her was welcomed to the three at the table.</p><p> </p><p>The four looked out to where Eloise indicated—from the sunroom’s wide, all encompassing windows, they could see Anthony and Kate outside, running around with the corgi. As though sensing them looking in the distance, the two disappeared over the hill and out of their sight.</p><p> </p><p>“They are playing with Newton, dear sister,” Benedict answered, plucking a scone from the plate set out before them. “Our dear Katherine’s dog?”</p><p> </p><p>“I know Newton,” Eloise all but sneered, taking the open seat beside her brother. “He is my best friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne’s eyebrows rose at the title. “Really? I thought Penelope owned that position in your life.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise shrugged. “Sometimes she does. Sometimes it’s Newton. Depends on the mood I’m in.” She picked up a cream puff from the set out table, shoving half of it in her mouth. “I just find it funny,” Eloise said with a half-full mouth, “Anthony and Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“What is so funny about it?” Benedict grinned, nudging her elbow knowingly.</p><p> </p><p>She swallowed, eyes darting to her mother, sister, and brother. “I mean…we can all <em>see it,</em> right?”</p><p> </p><p>Violet shifted in her seat, sparing a glance at her eldest daughter, who seemed to be far too interested with the pattern on her tea cup. She wasn’t one to gossip, but was it really gossip if one was speaking about one of her children to her other children?</p><p> </p><p>“Come on…” Eloise bemoaned when no one said anything.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you speaking of the fact your brother is falling head over heels for Kate but seems to have every intention of marrying her sister, who he does not even love the slightest? That Anthony is being an insolent fool?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mother!” Daphne yelped.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict choked on his tea.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise gaped, astounded.</p><p> </p><p>Violet merely picked back up her tea, taking a thoughtful sip as her children attempted to collect themselves. “I have eyes and ears and bit of intuition—I know what is happening here,” she told them, flustered herself. “The question is, what are we going to do about it?”</p><p> </p><p>“What are we going to do about it?” Daphne uttered. “It is their own lives, we can tease by all means, but do something?” She seemed apprehensive. “We shouldn’t premeditatedly meddle. It’ll only make Anthony upset.”</p><p> </p><p>“All the more reason to do it,” Benedict declared, earning a hi-five from Eloise.</p><p> </p><p>Violet smiled at the two, always loving how close Eloise and Benedict were.</p><p> </p><p>“Think of it as helping Anthony,” Eloise said, proud of herself. “We nudge a little here and we nudge a little there, then boom!” She clapped her hands together. “He and Kate are married and happily making goo-goo eyes at each other for the rest of their lives and Anthony will stop being a dick.”</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise,” Violet did scold this time, lips pursed into a frown. “Don’t call your brother a dick.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict chortled, head reeling back.</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t anyone tell me there was tea!” Colin unceremoniously ambled into the room, beelining straight to the pastries on the table. He grabbed a plate, stacking up on scones, truffles, and a slice or two of a strawberry roll. Plate in hand, he hurried off to grab an extra chair, pulling it up to the edge of the table to join the family. “Who are we gossiping about?”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne huffed. “We aren’t gossiping—”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony and Kate,” Benedict told him, speaking right over Daphne’s attempts to hamper down the conversation, “how Anthony is an idiot for wanting to marry Edwina when Kate is literally right in front of him being a godsend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Edwina is a catch!” Eloise swatted at her brother.</p><p> </p><p>“Never said she wasn’t,” Benedict assured her, “but she’s not the right one for Anthony. We have all met the right one for our dear brother and she is with him right now.”</p><p> </p><p>Murmurs of agreements sounded around the table.</p><p> </p><p>Colin paused his chewing. “An<em>-hony</em>?” he said, mouth stuffed.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Daphne’s nose wrinkled. She passed her brother a napkin. “Why so quiet? I thought you love this kind of thing; pushing his buttons.”</p><p> </p><p>All of Violet’s children loved pushing their eldest brother’s buttons, unable to help themselves when it came to lightening up her ever serious and stressed son.</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed, nodding gamely. “I do, I do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then what is it?” Eloise joined in, she too noticing Colin’s subdue demeanor at the mention of Anthony. “Do you not like Kate?”</p><p> </p><p>“I love Kate!” Colin was quick to assured. “She’s the best! I want Anthony and her to be together if they aren’t already.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t already?” Daphne asked, leaning closer to her brother. “What does that mean?”</p><p> </p><p>Colin took a large bite of scone, shrugging. “I’m just getting a vibe.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t suggesting there is already something going on between Anthony and Kate, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>The table fell quiet. Anthony didn’t have the best past regarding his romantic relationships, but he was honorable. In a sense. At least Violet liked to believe she and Edmund raised him to be so. But so much had changed since then, so much of Anthony had changed since then.</p><p> </p><p>“Because that’s not like Anthony,” Benedict continued, trying to alleviate the awkward implications. “Believe it or not, he <em>is</em> a serial monogamous. He’d never cheat. Even in a loveless relationship like the one he’s currently in.”</p><p> </p><p>A series of exhales came from the Bridgertons.</p><p> </p><p>“So he and Edwina need to end things before he could even entertain the thought of being with Kate,” Violet surmised, realizing perhaps it might be harder to knock some sense into her son than she thought.</p><p> </p><p>“Good luck with that,” a new voice chimed in.</p><p> </p><p>“Simon!” Daphne sprung up from her chair, shifting over for her husband to join her side.</p><p> </p><p>He pushed himself off the doorframe he leaned against, entering the room. “Anthony seems intent on marrying Edwina,” he explained, answering the curious glances at the table as he brought another chair to join them. “I don’t know why. Especially considering he’s never mentioned the thought of marriage prior to her. Yet he’s made it clear he does not love her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Clear how?” Eloise asked, intent to have clear-cut answers.</p><p> </p><p>“Whenever he talks about her, it sounds like he listing skills for a job posting,” Daphne answered, taking a small sip of her tea. “Does that sound like love to you?”</p><p> </p><p>The girl shrugged. “Maybe. Not really.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin chuckled, taking another bite of his scone. “What does Eloise even know about love? Last I check she was down with patriarchy and wanted nothing to do with romance.”</p><p> </p><p>Glaring at him darkly, Eloise chucked her napkin at his head. “I know plenty about love, okay!” With a huff, she stood up from her chair. “Let’s table ‘Operation Kathony’ until we have a real idea of what’s going on with Edwina and Anthony, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>With that, she left the sunroom.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict stared down at her empty chair, brows furrowed. “Someone clearly needs to go back to bed and wake up again.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne scoffed. “Really, Benedict? She’s upset about something.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s been in a sour mood ever since she got here,” Colin felt the need to remind everyone. “Is it that much of a surprise she stormed out?”</p><p> </p><p>Hurried footsteps came from outside the room, a frantic Penelope popping in a moment later. “Does anyone know why Eloise is ripping up a sweater in the kitchen?”</p><p> </p><p>Concerned glances were shared around.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh,” Benedict blinked, “no. No, we don’t—”</p><p> </p><p>The backdoor by the kitchen banged open.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I want that damn beast gone</em>!” Anthony bellowed.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“It was an accident!” Kate insisted, seeming out of breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Everything is an accident with you!”</p><p> </p><p>A bitter laugh came from Kate. “I told you not to exhaust him—”</p><p> </p><p>“You let him jump into the lake!” Anthony near roared. “And made me carry him!”</p><p> </p><p>“You said you would carry him,” came her aggravated response, “and I wasn’t the one who let him off his leash!” Something tumbled, followed by a thump. “It is not my fault you didn’t listen to me, even after I warned you.”</p><p> </p><p>Apparently that put the nail in the argument’s coffin, Anthony not shouting back or stomping around the house. Muffled words were exchanged, but nothing loud enough for the family to hear anything from the sunroom.</p><p> </p><p>Footsteps inched closer, Penelope coming further into the room before Anthony or Kate could spot her. She sat down in Eloise’s open seat, the family attempting to act natural.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stopped by the doorway, Kate right behind him, nudging him forward.</p><p> </p><p>Both looked worse for wear, the entire front of Anthony’s shirt and sweater muddied and sopping wet, while Kate’s hair hung limply around her face, stray pieces of mud and grass caught in the dark strands.</p><p> </p><p>“Um,” Anthony began, before clearing his throat. Kate nudged him again, mouth in a stern line. “I’d like…I’d like to apologize for my outburst right there…the one you may have heard a moment ago. It…” He spared a glance to Kate, she waiting for him to finish. “It was uncalled for and I did not consider the fact you’d all be down here. Awake. Having tea.”</p><p> </p><p>The Bridgertons all glanced at each other, unsure of what to do or say.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was apologizing. A rare occurrence. But not an unwelcomed one.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Daphne spoke up for the room. A few of the others murmured similar sentiments.</p><p> </p><p>But Violet’s only focus was her son and the woman beside him. Despite both their less than clean appearances, thanks to Newton’s rambunctious nature, they looked fitting.</p><p> </p><p>More than fitting; like they belonged together. She could picture this woman by her son’s side for more than just this moment, but for the long term. To nudge him to do the right thing, to give an encouraging smile—to speak to him when no words needed to be spoke.</p><p> </p><p>A simple glance between the two told her they had already mastered such a skill.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re going get cleaned up real quick,” Kate said, “and we’ll join you.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet stood up, walking around her children to the two. “Then I’ll make more tea.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate smiled thankfully at her before leaving the doorway, an exhausted Newton hot on her tails. Anthony remained, watching her leave…almost wistful and longing.</p><p> </p><p><em>Almost</em>. Like he was trying his best <em>not</em> to be.</p><p> </p><p>Violet passed by him, Anthony stepping aside to let her through. “Come with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I need to—” He motioned to upstairs, yet Violet’s glance told him to shut his mouth. “Alright,” he sighed.</p><p> </p><p>The two barely made to the kitchen entrance before Violet whirled on her son, arms crossed over her chest. “I am going to tell you this once. Any emotional affair weighs just as heavy as a physical one. And it is not fair to anyone in the situation.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s jaw locked, yet he remained silent.</p><p> </p><p>“If you like Kate then—”</p><p> </p><p>“She and I are just friends. I don’t know what you and everyone else seems to see,” Anthony hurried out, serious and unrelenting. “I’m going to marry Edwina.”</p><p> </p><p>“I want you to get married. I do. I want all my children married. But I also want them to be in love.” Violet considered her next words carefully. “You know…I knew your father was the one in less than a day. And it was scary. So thrilling but scary to realize you can fall for someone <em>so fast</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>Horror washed over her son’s face. “I am not—” He sputtered. “No, Mother. No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony…”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” he said again. His face burned red and mouth pinched together. “When are you going to realize…” He swallowed tightly, attempting to collect himself. “I can <em>never</em> have what you and Dad had. I just can’t.” Her son was resolute on the matter.</p><p> </p><p>A deep worry rooted itself in Violet. Anthony had never been happy; she knew this, even if he never spoke of his feelings to her. At least not since he was a teenager. They’d been close once, he opening up to her about anything and everything. But then Edmund…a part of herself died and a part of her son—the happy, carefree, adventurous young man she raised—was locked away.</p><p> </p><p>Now Violet didn’t believe love, romantic love, solved all matters. She believed it could very well cause the opposite, her life a testament to such.</p><p> </p><p>But she did believe love, all love—family, friendship, self-love—could mend what had been broken.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony, perhaps, did not know this.</p><p> </p><p>And she couldn’t force him to see it. He was a grown man, set in many of his ways, it’d take a force of nature for him to understand anything beyond his own thoughts and opinions. It’d take <em>time</em>.</p><p> </p><p>So she said— “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay?” Anthony echoed, surprised by the phrase.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Violet repeated. “Just promise you won’t do anything you don’t have your heart in.” She wanted to hug him, but then remembered his current state. “And please take a shower—you smell like wet dog. I always despised that smell,” she said with a sad smile.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s lips quirked up—so much like Edmund—and gave a sharp nod. “See you in a moment then.” And he left.</p><p> </p><p>Violet could only hope she did not fail all her children like she’d seemingly done with Anthony.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kate was in the middle of responding to work emails—mostly sign-ups and miscellaneous forms for the impending school year—when her bedroom door cracked open.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony popped his head in.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you busy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you want to talk to me again?” she shot back, not bothering to look up from her laptop. Anthony had practically avoided her for the rest of the day, not even engaging in mindless dinner chatter earlier that evening. He was in a sour mood over their little lake incident, Kate not bothering with him when he constantly looked like her smelled something rancid. After the day’s events, he coming to her room near the middle of night was not necessarily welcomed. “I thought I was the mother of a beast.”</p><p> </p><p>Newton’s head lifted from his bed at the phrase.</p><p> </p><p>Damn Anthony! Poor Newton was probably starting to believe his new name was ‘Beast’ with the amount of name calling made.</p><p> </p><p>A huff came from him, Anthony slipping into the room and shutting the door. He sat down on her bed, across from her, leaning forward until he caught her gaze. It was then she noticed he had on glasses—a pair similar to her own reading glasses slipping down her nose.</p><p> </p><p>“I found him.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hands stopped, poised over her keyboard. “You mean you found—”</p><p> </p><p>“Phillip Crane,” he answer, scooting up until he could collapse comfortably at the foot of her bed. “Thirty years old. Lives not too far from where Eloise use to live. He’s a Geneticist Ph.D. candidate at her university.” His nose scrunched, tucking an arm behind his head. “Which has nothing to do with her concentration so I guess that’s a good thing?”</p><p> </p><p>“Find out your sister was not fraternizing with her potential professors and teaching assistants is always a good thing, Anthony,” Kate deadpanned.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s thirty.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s twenty-three,” Kate reminded him.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s…older than I imagined.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just seven years,” she told him. “She’s the same age as Edwina. So imagine how I feel.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s head snapped to her. “That’s…different.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not really,” she cringed out. “Might be worse for you.”</p><p> </p><p>He scoffed, sitting back up. “Are you saying you’d never date a man…what? More than five years your senior?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate blinked at him, not expecting Anthony to get so flustered over the matter. “I…don’t know?” She confessed. “I never really thought about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Never thought about men older than you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Never thought about dating in general,” she said, keeping her eyes locked on her screen. She didn’t need Anthony Bridgerton dragging her (lack of) dating history through the mud. But he was looking up at her, so intrigued and baffled behind his glasses, she knew she wouldn’t be able to wiggle out of this conversation. “I focused on school, my art, my family…” She quietly closed her laptop, knowing she wasn’t going to get anything else done that night. Not with Anthony there. “Even now…with all of us in good places in our lives, it seems weird to entertain the thought of dating.” Her eyes widened, unable to even recall the last time she went on a date. A singular, real date with a man who liked her. “I guess…age doesn’t bother me? For me?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hummed, staring up at the ceiling, hands now clasped on his chest. “You deserve to go on a date.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate stilled. “Excuse me?”</p><p> </p><p>“You deserve to go on a date,” he told her again, head lulling to the side to look at her. “More people should get to know the menace that is Kate Sheffield. Even if it is just for one night.”</p><p> </p><p>Reaching beside her, she grabbed a pillow and she smack him in the face. His deep chuckles morphed into snickers, glasses skewed on his face. Still laughing, he tucked the pillow under his head, getting far too comfortable on her bed.</p><p> </p><p>“So you object to an age difference for your sister, but you wouldn’t mind yourself?” he asked, sounding too dubious for her liking.</p><p> </p><p>Kate huffed, setting aside her laptop on her bedside. “I guess? If he is the right man—if the right man even exists—then I wouldn’t care,” she settled on, hoping he’d drop the topic. She rarely talked about her own dating life with her sister, she wasn’t about to do so with her sister’s boyfriend.</p><p> </p><p>“Duly noted.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be one those people who wants to set me up,” she warned, rolling her eyes. “Because then I’d kill you.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyebrows rose, his smirk well intact, yet he didn’t say a word.</p><p> </p><p>“So <em>Phillip</em>,” she turned to flop down beside him, feeling too weird sitting up while he laid down, all causal, “what’s the plan?”</p><p> </p><p>“We leave tomorrow, at seven. Before the rest of the family wakes up,” Anthony informed her. “It takes about two hours to get there.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you’ll…what? Talk to him? Ambush him?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll decided when we get there,” he said, still unsure but aggravated at the thought.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s reassuring,” she muttered, earning an annoyed glance from Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>“Just be ready when I come knocking,” Anthony ordered. “I don’t want my family to ask questions about where we are going.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can Newton come along?” Kate asked, sending a longing glance to her snoozing corgi. She didn’t want to leave him by his lonesome all day.</p><p> </p><p>“If he doesn’t make a mess,” he agreed readily, pushing himself off the bed. Once standing up, he yawned, his glasses slipping down his nose.</p><p> </p><p>Kate propped her head up, grinning cheekily. “Ya know, the glasses work for you. Really sells the ‘old man’ vibe you are going for.” She motioned to all of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Old man vibe?” He glanced down at himself, confused. “I don’t look like an old man.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your brown sweater, glasses and gray hair say otherwise.”</p><p> </p><p>His hands went straight to his temples, where his brown hair was subtly turning into an ashy grey. “I…didn’t think anyone would notice,” he mumbled, ears reddening.</p><p> </p><p>“It works for you,” Kate tried to amend. The strange thing was, she found herself telling the truth. The ashy grey <em>did</em> work for him; made him look wiser, more put together than the simmering anxious bundle she knew he could be. More relaxed. “Not many can go full old man in their thirties; it’s a gift.”</p><p> </p><p>His lips twitched up, but Anthony turned away before she could see his smile. He opened the door, sparing her one more glance. “Seven and not a minute later.”</p><p> </p><p>Once he slipped back out the door, Kate left alone on her bed, she found herself thinking of those grey hairs and how becoming it looked on Anthony far more than she cared to admit.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did I see in recent interviews a peek of grey in JB's hair? Yes I did. AND I ROLLED WITH IT 😂</p><p>WHO HAD THEIR MONEY ON COLIN AND PEN ALREADY BEING SOMETHING? I did drop a few hints here and there...but nothing too obvious, hehehehe.</p><p>Anyways--so we finally know what is *sort of* going on with Colin and Pen! I know, I know, I know--everyone wants more of them. I get it. I WANT MORE OF THEM TOO! But their major romantic bits are more so planned in the latter half of the story; however their arc has just started! Yay! I have a lot of sibling love lives to juggle here, lol. </p><p>Random Note: Since Coughlan is on Derry Girls, I always picture Pen with a Derry accent 😂 I KNOW THAT IS NOT PEN'S ACCENT but I have watched Derry Girl's a good hundred times and I literally cannot think of it as anything else.</p><p>Let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. A Sister's Secret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Typos will be fixed later. Slowly replying to comments, but know I love and appreciated every single one of them and am planning on responding ASAP!</p><p>Hold tight--a few surprises are on the way!</p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>| <em>@ladywhistlesdown</em></p><p>
  <em>A Bridgerton party can never get past me, my dear moots! Does not matter if it be a dinner party or grand gala—if it happens, I know. And boy, did this one have some noteworthy moments.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I shall list them here &gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>| <em>@ladywhistledown</em></p><ul>
<li>
<em>A riveting performance of the classic macarena by </em>@eloease<em>—who was completely shit-face from the get-go</em>
</li>
<li><em>Violet B. attempting to set her sons up…AGAIN. One determined Mama to rule them all I suppose</em></li>
<li>
<em>A surprisingly very sober @daffbridgebassett….not to mention she *vanished* halfway through the party </em><em>👀</em>
</li>
</ul><p>
  
</p><p>| <em>@ladywhistledown</em></p><p>
  <em>THEN OF COURSE THE ROMANCE AND DANCING!</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>| <em>@ladywhistledown</em></p><p>@bendoesartstuff<em> of course dominated the dance floor, switching from partner to partner with ease. Makes one wonder if he dances through life the same way…</em></p><p>@cb_travels <em>&amp; </em>@featheringpen<em> did share a dance. A sad, pathetic one. But one nonetheless.</em></p><p><em>And </em>@anthonybridge<em>…well his deserves more than just a remark—</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>| <em>@ladywhistledown</em></p><p><em>Despite reports of Edwina Sheffield, </em>@edwinasheff <em>(AB’s gf) would be at Aubrey Hall for holiday, she was not in attendance. IN FACT…she has not stepped foot at Aubrey Hall once!</em></p><p>
  <em>However….</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>| <em>@ladywhistledown</em></p><p>
  <em>….one (1) Katherine Sheffield (ES older, less attractive &amp; overall *bleh* sister—who *doesn’t* have a twitter) was there. At the party. And, if my sources are correct, is residing at Aubrey Hall for the holiday.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why is this important?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Kate&amp;Anthony ooze erotic tension of trashy romance novel capacity! Especially on the dance floor. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>| <em>@ladywhistledown</em></p><p>
  <em>It is such a pity, however, she looked like a sorry excuse for a daffodil. A singed daffodil at that, in her pale yellow gown.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“<em>A singed daffodil</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Behind the wheel, Anthony spared her a glance. Once he noticed Kate was indeed on her phone, he groaned. “Don’t tell me you read her too?”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes darted to him, lips biting together. “I have an alert for whenever Edwina or I are mentioned. I never had to do that before,” she grumbled, “had to do it once she started dating you.” Kate tucked back into her phone, scrolling through. “I don’t understand how she gets her information…”</p><p> </p><p>“I think she has a spy,” Anthony told her, his running theory for the last few years. “Or several spies. People she pays off. Or worse, she is so popular, followers just send her information now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh,” Kate grumbled, the glow of the screen reflecting off her glasses.</p><p> </p><p>While he knew Kate had been surprised he wore glasses, Anthony was equally surprised to see her donning a pair as well. He figured she wore them for reading, she pulling them out whenever she had to look at a blue screen for a long period of time or when she was flicking through a novel. There was nothing particular odd about someone wearing glasses, but he never pictured someone like <em>her</em> to need them.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to make an account <em>and</em> retweet it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t,” he muttered, eyes glued on the stretch of townhouses. “Don’t be that person.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am that person,” Kate tapped viciously at her phone screen, “I am that petty person who’s going to make a twitter account to just retweet Lady Whistledown.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’ll only attack you more,” he warned, picking up his water bottle from the cupholder. He sipped his water, checking his watch again.</p><p> </p><p>A quarter past ten. They’d been sitting in the car, parked on the street for an hour and no one had came out of Phillip Crane’s townhouse. Honestly, the rather rushed and impromptu stakeout was becoming a bust.</p><p> </p><p>“Then let her attack me,” Kate scoffed, thumbs typing away. “I have thick skin. I can take some dumb jabs.” She looked back over to him, affronted. “<em>Singed daffodil</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like someone is trying to fulfill a creative writing unit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly!” Her eyes widened, Kate slapping his shoulder excitedly. “That’s exactly what I was thinking! Hell, maybe she is still in school! God, Whistledown a school girl, digging her nose in our business.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony leaned back into the driver’s seat, sending her a rather admonishing look. “To Whistledown’s credit, the dress was a singe-y kind of yellow.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gosh, I get it—no one liked the dress!” Kate bemoaned. “I didn’t even like the dress! I only wore it because of Daphne.”</p><p> </p><p>“I never said I didn’t like it. I just said it <em>was</em> a singe-y yellow,” Anthony corrected, chuckling through his words. The pale yellow wasn’t necessarily flattering on Kate, even Anthony could admit that to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Kate slumped in her seat, legs tucking under her. Anthony didn’t bother to insist she sit properly in the passenger seat; they’d both been sitting in the car for hours, any other position would be more comfortable than sitting upright. “You know what? I’m going to make it my username,” she said with a coy grin, “‘Katherine the Singed Daffodil’.” She tried typing it in, frowning. “Too long. Maybe ‘@katethedaffodil’?” When Anthony didn’t give an immediate answer, she waved him off. “Nevermind, I’ll figure out how to make it work.”</p><p> </p><p>He rose his eyebrows. “You think acknowledging her and making an account will stop her?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope,” Kate tossed her phone back into her satchel by her feet. Curled up beside her bag and feet, Newton looked up, annoyed by the intrusiveness. “But it will give everyone a few good laughs, myself included.”</p><p> </p><p>She scanned the street, the same as he did for the last hour, and sighed.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Anthony scrubbing his face tiredly, “I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure he’s home?” Kate asked. “I mean, it’s <em>ten</em>. Maybe he had work, or school, or…” She cringed. “Or maybe he’s just not there?”</p><p> </p><p>“He works at the university. It’s summer holiday,” Anthony reminded her, “why wouldn’t he be home?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because it’s a Tuesday?” Kate squinted at the few people who were walking around the neighborhood, as though Phillip would be amongst them. No one paid no mind to them, lost in their own lives. “And it’s <em>summer holiday</em>. Maybe he has family he’s visiting? Or—”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip’s townhouse door opened.</p><p> </p><p>Both fell silent, watching with sharp attention.</p><p> </p><p>A tall, dark haired man stepped out in a jacket and walking shoes, dressed for the overcast weather. He stopped at the stoop, waiting with the door open.</p><p> </p><p>Kate leaned forward, brows furrowed. “What is he—”</p><p> </p><p>And then <em>they</em> stepped out.</p><p> </p><p>‘They’ being two children—twins, if their similar mops of hair and height were anything to go by. Two young children—no older than ten—walking down the steps, each holding on to one of Phillip’s hands as they ambled down the street.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony froze, mouth falling agape. His brain tried to process what he’d seen in comparison to what he knew, and yet nothing could compute. No words could be formed. Because he did not expect this in the slightest.</p><p> </p><p>“Um,” Kate cleared her throat, also stunned, her mind undoubtedly jumping to conclusions like his, “<em>that</em> could be a reason to break-up.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“This is borderline stalking, Anthony,” Kate hissed, trying to keep up with him. This usually wasn’t a problem, Kate easily keeping pace with him on an average day, but Anthony was walking towards a near sprint. “You cannot just go up to a man and start demanding answers! Especially in front of his children!”</p><p> </p><p>He stopped, whirling on her. “Will you keep your voice down?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate snapped her mouth shut, raising her eyebrows at him.</p><p> </p><p>Between them, Newton tugged on his leash, Anthony’s frown deepening. He held the leash tighter. “Stop, Newton,” he ordered, the dog listening without an ounce of hesitation.</p><p> </p><p>He really needed to teach her how to do that because Newton didn’t listen to her at all these days, not even</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not…” Anthony glanced back to where Phillip and his apparent children walked off towards, the park just up ahead. They’d been trying to keep up with following the little family while still keeping a respectable distance, but Kate knew better than to believe they didn’t look the least bit suspicious. “I’m not going to ambush him, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then what are you going to do?” she demanded. “I was fine with taking a day trip here and being your travel buddy to see who the hell this guy is, but I cannot let you do something stupid like—like attack him.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s jaw clenched. “I wouldn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“You would.” Kate crossed her arms over her chest, daring him to challenge her otherwise. “Are you telling me you don’t want to tackle him and shake some sense into him? Just a little bit?” She pinched her fingers together. “Because I feel like you would.”</p><p> </p><p>He chewed his lips together, a shaky exhale rattling through him. “Maybe. But it’s because he broke Eloise’s heart. Eloise who is invincible. Eloise who…”</p><p> </p><p>Seeing the frustrated strain in his eyes, Kate reached for him. Her hand grasped his, Anthony gripping back with ferocity. Clutching as an anchor.</p><p> </p><p>“He hurt your sister and you want to hurt him,” Kate said, saying the words he could not for the life of him string together in that moment. “But you can’t.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, but didn’t argue.</p><p> </p><p>“So if we go over there,” she nodded down the path, “to see him, you cannot do anything you’ll regret. Or worse, make Eloise hate you forever.” He flinched at the thought. “Because even if you hate him, or I hate him, or your entire family hates him, Eloise still cares for him. You heard her that night.”</p><p> </p><p>The tension in shoulders softened, recalling Sunday’s events. While her rambles had been ridiculous, the ache and pain in her voice was not lost. Eloise was hurting; no matter how well she hid the pain, it was still there, festering in silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” he gritted out, not entirely happy, but at least not having a temper tantrum. “I’ll keep to myself as best I can. But if he comes to me—”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” Kate interjected before he could finish. “Let’s leave it on a high note, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>With that settled, they continued on their way. However it wasn’t until they reached the park did Anthony release Kate’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>She tried her best to not be disappointed by the loss.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>If there were one thing Amanda Crane adored the most in the world, it was puppies.</p><p> </p><p>All sorts of puppies. The big kind. The little kind. The sloppy kisses kind. All dogs were friends in her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>So when she spotted the doggo with short stubby legs and a waddle to his step, the eight year old was utterly delighted. He looked so silly and funny, and just happy! All dogs should look happy, and this one did, staring up at his mummy and daddy like they were the best people in the world.</p><p> </p><p>They probably were the best if they had a dog as funny as him.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda simply had to meet this dog!</p><p> </p><p>Looking back to her Uncle Phillip, who was busy kicking around a football with her brother Oliver, Amanda made her decision. Hopping off the swing, she walked up the slope of the playground towards the waddling dog. His mummy and daddy were sitting together at the bench, speaking in the hushed and annoyed way grown-ups do.</p><p> </p><p>She’d seen her Uncle Phillip talk like that on the phone a few times, Amanda knowing it best to not interrupt adults when they were speaking.</p><p> </p><p>So instead she set her sights on the dog, holding her hand out for him to sniff.</p><p> </p><p>His wet snout pressed against her palm. He then licked her, a shrieking giggle escaping her.</p><p> </p><p><em>That</em> caught the dog’s mummy and daddy’s attention.</p><p> </p><p>“He likes me!” Amanda told them, however both seemed startled. She didn’t mean to sneak up on them; it wasn’t her fault they weren’t paying attention.</p><p> </p><p>“Newton likes everyone,” the mummy told her, happy to talk to her. “He’s a good boy like that.”</p><p> </p><p>Newton’s daddy didn’t seem to agree, frowning. “You and I have two very different definitions of ‘good.’ He’s a beast of a dog.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s adorable,” Amanda argued, grinning down at the dog. She looked back and forth between the mummy and daddy. “May I pet him?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>The mummy turned to the daddy, upset. The way she remembered her mother would look at her father when he wouldn’t listen to her. “I always let children pet Newton,” she told him, before turning back to Amanda. “Go ahead. He loves a good scratch behind his ear,” she told her with a kind smile.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda saw Newton’s daddy’s frown go away when the mummy smile.</p><p> </p><p>They must have been in love. Because her father would look at her mother like that, and he’d smile when she smiled, and they were <em>really</em> in love. Amanda knew that as a fact.</p><p> </p><p>“Amanda!” Uncle Phillips’s voice called from the playground. “Amanda! Get back over here!”</p><p> </p><p>She sighed, rolling her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you should go back to your dad?” the mummy asked, looking back to where Uncle Phillip had been. He was already hurrying over, Oliver beside him.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s nose wrinkled. “He’s not my dad,” she corrected, both Newton’s mummy and daddy looking confused. “My dad’s dead,” she told them plainly, both their eyes widening, panicking. Amanda knew the panicked look very well. Uncle Phillip had it. A lot.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetie I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Amanda,” Uncle Phillip came to stop a few paces away, out of breath, “you can’t go running off like that!”</p><p> </p><p>“Uncle Phillip, I made a friend,” Amanda turned to Newton, scratching behind his ear as his mummy directed, “his name’s Newton. Can I get a Newton?”</p><p> </p><p>Her uncle did not seem pleased by the suggestion. “No dogs. You know that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Corgi’s are pretty low maintenance,” the mummy told them, “and great companions. Honestly couldn’t imagine my life without my favorite guy.”</p><p> </p><p>The daddy didn’t say anything, just pulling Newton closer to him, petting the dog around his neck.</p><p> </p><p>Uncle Phillip still wasn’t sold on the idea of a dog. “I’m sure he is, but a dog isn’t a right fit for us. Right Amanda? Oliver?”</p><p> </p><p>Neither she or her brother responded, Oliver just shrugging. He didn’t say much these days, missing their parents too much sometimes.</p><p> </p><p>Her uncle sighed, turning back to Newton’s mummy and daddy. “I’m sorry she bothered you two. Amanda has a penchant for running off.”</p><p> </p><p>She scowled up at him, Uncle Phillip pulling her back over to his side. They probably wouldn’t be coming back to the park for the rest of the week because of her.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine. A lot of kids like to stop and pet Newt,” the mummy assured them. “Your daughter did it respectfully,” she turned to Amanda, giving a small nod, “which I appreciate.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Niece</em>,” he corrected, placing a hand over Amanda’s shoulder. “Since apparently my niece and your dog are best friends,” he tried to joke, Amanda rolling her eyes again; honestly, her Uncle was so annoying sometimes, “we should introduce ourselves, I’m Phillip,” he then nodded to her and her brother, “and these two are my niece and nephew, Amanda and Oliver.” He tried to offer a welcoming smile, but Uncle Phillip didn’t know how to smile without looking like he had a stomach ache. “I haven’t seen you two around before—are you new to the area? Visiting family?”</p><p> </p><p>Newton’s mummy and daddy shared a glance, before the daddy spoke. “Yes. We’re new. We just moved here.”</p><p> </p><p>“A few streets over,” the mummy added. “Thought it would be nice to take the dog for a walk, get him familiar.”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you always lived around here?” the daddy asked her Uncle Phillip, frowning grumpily.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” her uncle answered. “For almost five years next spring. My grandmother owned the townhouse I live in. Inherited the place after her passing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Always on your own?”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony,” the mummy mumbled, nudging the daddy.</p><p> </p><p>Uncle Phillip frowned, his hand tightening on both her and Oliver’s shoulders. “Why do you ask?</p><p> </p><p>“Do you know an Eloise Bridgerton?”</p><p> </p><p>“How do you—”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony,” the mummy said again, warning him.</p><p> </p><p>“Because I’m her brother.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anthony was positive Kate wanted to smack him upside the head.</p><p> </p><p>But he saw his opportunity and he took it. He only promised not to go up to Phillip. He never got finish saying what he’d do if Phillip came to him. It took all his strength to not ring the man’s neck upon first meeting.</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s Eloise?” the girl, Amanda asked, looking up at her Uncle.</p><p> </p><p>God. <em>Uncle</em>. Anthony had never felt more relieved to learn someone was an Uncle than he did moments ago. He couldn’t imagine Eloise dating a single father. She could barely manage herself, it’d be impossible for her to ever be capable of managing children.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s a friend of mine,” Phillip explained swiftly. He urged the children towards the playground. “Why don’t you two go play? I’ll watch you from over here. Just holler if you need anything, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver was happy to leave, while Amanda seemed more hesitant.</p><p> </p><p>“Go, Amanda,” Phillip ordered.</p><p> </p><p>Huffing, the girl followed her brother, though not without glancing back forlornly.</p><p> </p><p>Once the children were out of an earshot, Phillip turned back to him, disgruntled. “Who the hell do you think you are showing up here—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m Anthony, Eloise’s older brother,” he interjected before this man could go on any further. He stood up, passing off Newton’s leash to Kate. He could feel her aggravated glare boring into him, knowing very well she was going to scold him into eternity if he did anything batshit. “Eldest brother,” he added for good measure.</p><p> </p><p>Phillip did not appear to be too bothered, a sag to his shoulders. “Did she send you?”</p><p> </p><p>His jaw clenched. “No—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then why are you here?” Phillip asked. His eyes darted from Anthony to Kate. “Are you one of the siblings too?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Me</em>?” Kate squeaked, before snorting into laughter. "God, no. I’m <em>not</em> a Bridgerton.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony raised an eyebrow. They weren’t <em>that</em> bad, were they?</p><p> </p><p>“Not that there is anything wrong with being a Bridgerton…” she trailed off, shrugging. She leaned closer to Phillip. “But I’m assuming you’ve been around a Bridgerton long enough to know they can be…” She winced, tilting her head side to side and decided did not finish the sentence.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Phillip supplied, exhaustion wearing on him. “I know how they are.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here,” Anthony chimed in, bring the conversation back to the topic at hand, “because my sister is heartbroken over some stunt you pulled. And I am here to find out what the hell you did to cause said heartbreak.”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip blinked at him, stunned, but more importantly puzzled. “You think <em>I </em>did something? That I’m the one who broke up with her?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony didn’t like how the questions were thrown at him. Like he was the idiot.</p><p> </p><p>Shifting a little, he nodded, sizing the man up. “Yes. Because she is beside herself and is trying to hide it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I…” Phillip seemed at a loss for words; either overwhelmed by the news of Eloise’s emotional state or unsure of how to tell the truth. “I didn’t break up with her. Technically, she never broke up with me either.”</p><p> </p><p>“How does that work?” Kate asked, practically reading Anthony’s mind.</p><p> </p><p>Phillip chewed on the inside of his cheek, not looking at either of them. “It means…she and I had a disagreement and she was so upset she packed up and left in the middle of the night. Without a word.” Rubbing his jaw, he turned away, looking out towards his niece and nephew. “I have been trying to get in contact with her for days but she keeps on screening my calls. Then a couple of nights ago she leaves me over twenty voicemails, maxing my inbox.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate cringed. Anthony fared no better, eyes screwing shut at the memory.</p><p> </p><p>“I tried to find the number she called on,” Phillip continued, “so I could find her, but all I got was a landline out in Kent.” He shook his head, frustrated. “No one owns a landline anymore. Least of all she’d be calling me from Kent.”</p><p> </p><p>Sitting on the bench, Kate slapped a hand to her mouth, struggling to contain her laughter.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony glared down at her, silently willing her to shut up.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry—I am,” she wheezed out. Phillip looked at her like she was deranged.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony could not blame him, but he found he didn’t like when other people looked at her like that—looked at her like she was ridiculous. Only he could think she was ridiculous, damn it.</p><p> </p><p>“I own a landline in Kent,” Anthony explained, “hence her,” he motioned to Kate, “laughing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Phillip uttered, “so Eloise is with you?”</p><p> </p><p>“You can say that,” Anthony said, the assumption part of the truth. Eloise was with him, but she was also surrounded by all seven of her siblings and their mother. He didn’t know what would be a worse situation for Phillip; to be faced with him or the entirety of the Bridgerton clan. Both had their pros and cons.</p><p> </p><p>“And she’s okay?” Phillip sounded so worried for Eloise, almost pleading to Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know what do; he expected an arsehole. A man who crushed her. Someone who <em>did</em> wrong her to justify all the boiling hate Anthony had for him..</p><p> </p><p>Except Phillip cared for Eloise. He seemed like a decent man. And by the sounds of it, both were at fault for whatever transpired. They had a spat that simply took an ugly turn towards one of them fleeing. But the picture was still hazy, parts of the story missing. Intentionally.</p><p> </p><p>“‘Okay’ is a relative term, but yes,” Kate said, answering for Anthony. He could list all the ways his sister perhaps <em>wasn’t</em> okay, however no one needed him to lament. “A bit moody is the way to put it.”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip hummed, not surprised.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened between you two?” Anthony finally asked. “I don’t understand how this relationship even happened. Eloise never mentioned you to anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not for you to know,” Phillip told him plainly, “it was Eloise’s choice to not tell you and your family about us. I’m not going to take that away from her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then all I ask is you leave her alone,” Anthony said, leaving no room for argument. Jaw locked, an unwavering authority in his eyes. “Your relationship left her…in pieces,” he confessed, spatting the word, “and I <em>don’t</em> want to see her like that ever again. So stay far away. If she ended it, then let it be over.” He paused, making his next words measured and forewarning. “And if you do contact her, I can guarantee I will not be as civil as I am now.”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip hummed, reservation in his eyes. Yet he agreed. “I’ll stay away. I’d never want to hurt Eloise. Intentionally. Unintentionally. Never.” He swallowed tightly. “Thank you…for telling me where she is at. That she’s safe.” He nodded to both, signaling the end of the conversation and a goodbye. “Take care.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t think he’d talk to us,” Kate confessed, poking at her cup of ice cream. “I’m still reeling from that.” After their rather awkward talk with Phillip, Kate decided something nice was in order. To her ice cream always seemed to fit the bill. Thankfully, it didn’t take much convincing for Anthony to drive further into town to find a shop.</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise kept an entire relationship a secret,” Anthony muttered, hardly touching his own cup of ice cream. Kate had half the mind to steal the chocolate chip from him. “An entire relationship.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you Bridgertons were all for the secret keeping,” she teased.</p><p> </p><p>She was met with unamused stare. “We try not to.” He shook his head, pulling Kate to his side of the sidewalk as another person walked by. Newton waddled between them, looking up and waiting for either to drop a morsel. Neither did. “He has kids,” Anthony mulled, still baffled.</p><p> </p><p>“A niece and nephew,” Kate corrected, sensing Anthony was spiraling into deep, unnecessary concerns.</p><p> </p><p>“He must be there guardian. The girl—”</p><p> </p><p>“Amanda.”</p><p> </p><p>“—mentioned her father was dead.” Anthony stopped walking, turning to Kate. “That could have scared Eloise off.”</p><p> </p><p>“A dead father?” Kate mused. “I suppose.” Death did scar a person, Kate herself an example of how the death of a parent could completely change their view and course of life. She hadn’t intended on being teacher, despite her love of her work now; she had dreams of attending art school and working on her craft. She wanted to explore the world, travel more. But when her father passed, she grew concerned for her little family.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t want Mary and Edwina to be alone. She wanted to be there for her family in the event of an emergency; she wanted to take care of them. Being a teacher would allow her to remain close, would allow a steady income, and allow her to help her family whenever possible. Mary would say she was a natural caregiver; Kate believed she simply was a natural <em>worrier</em>. One could say her father’s death spurred her into this role.</p><p> </p><p>And with one look at Anthony and his life, anyone could tell he was emotionally wounded to some degree, all linked to his own father’s death. Not that he’d ever say such beyond his fear of bees.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Anthony shook his head, “What I’m saying is…Eloise was around Amanda’s age when father died. She was the only one with him when it happened.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oh</em>.” Kate swallowed tightly, stabbing her spoon into her ice cream and scooping more into her mouth. Ice cream made pain feel better, she reminded herself, ice cream made pain feel <em>somewhat</em> better.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Anthony sighed. “She doesn’t like talking about it. To anyone. Mother tried to get her into therapy after it happened and Eloise refused to talk.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a shocker,” Kate could not help but remark. Eloise was a talker; nonstop at times, no filter on most occasions.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony chuckled, agreeing. “I know. She was very quiet for a while after that, then a few months later she started talking again and we have not been able to get her to shut up since.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you should talk to her,” Kate suggested, not like this bothered and subdue version of Anthony; one who looked just a dash of helpless. “When we get back, have tea together or do something together and talk to her. That’s how I get anything out of Edwina. Distraction is key.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll consider it.”</p><p> </p><p>Newton tugged on his leash, spotting something in the distance. Perhaps a bird or a squirl, or even something shiny. The line of shops and cafes were busy on a Tuesday, plenty of people ambling and mulling about.</p><p> </p><p>“Newt,” he warned, “stay, boy.”</p><p> </p><p>Except Newton wasn’t having any of it. Wiggling and squirming, he roughly pulled on the leash, the leather strap flying out of Anthony’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn it!”</p><p> </p><p>Newton took off like a lightning bolt down the street, Anthony and Kate running after him in an instant.</p><p> </p><p>“Newton!” Kate called out, panicked as she spotted his familiar ears disappear around the corner. “Gah! Newton! Come here boy!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Kate! Call him like a maniac because he listens <em>so well</em>!” Anthony sniped, attempting to catch his breath as they hurried after him. Huffing, he bypassed her, dashing ahead to find Newton.</p><p> </p><p>Scoffing, Kate pushed herself to catch up with him, looking around everywhere for a sign of Newton. His ears, his tail, his bright fur in the glum of the dull overcast.</p><p> </p><p>She practically bumped into Anthony once she spotted and charged full force to his side. He scrubbed his jaw as he frantically glanced around, looking on the verge of a breakdown. “I don’t know where he went, Kate. I don’t—”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah! Stop it you fool!” A sharp giggle sounded from down the street. “Oh, you sweet fool!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate <em>knew</em> that giggle.</p><p> </p><p>Grabbing confused Anthony’s hand, Kate dragged him down the street. Her feet finally came to a stop outside a café, her sister’s lovely blonde waves dancing in the breaking sunlight.</p><p> </p><p>“Edwina! Newton!”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina’s head snapped up, eyes wide at the sight of them, she holding tight to Newton’s collar. “Kate? Anthony?” A sweet smile broke on her face, though the deep puzzlement was there in her blue eyes. “What are you doing here?” She then peeked down at Newton, her smile widening. “What is my best boy doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony released Kate’s hand, crouching down to Newton’s side. “Don’t do that again, you Beast.” He wrapped Newton’s leash taut around his hand, gripping it for dear life. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.” Despite his harsh words, Anthony smothered his face into Newton’s fur for a fleeting moment, relief consuming him.</p><p> </p><p>Kate crouched down as well, scratched a loving hand behind her doggo’s ear. She looked back up at her sister, baffled to be there with her.</p><p> </p><p>Now that she thought about it, Edwina’s office was not too far off. Only a few streets over.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh—Anthony and I decided to take a day trip,” she explained. “To get out of the house.”</p><p> </p><p>“To get out of the house?” Edwina repeated, teasing. “I thought you were in love with that house—no <em>estate</em>! You wouldn’t stop raving about it the days leading up to your trip.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate felt heat crawl up her neck to her face. She avoiding Anthony’s now smirking and curious eyes. “I do. I do, but—”</p><p> </p><p>“Bridgertons can be a bit much,” Anthony supplied, standing back up to his feet. He offered a hand to Kate, he helping her back up. Almost mechanically, he leaned to Edwina, pressing a kiss to her cheek.</p><p> </p><p>Her sister smiled politely, accepting the gesture.</p><p> </p><p>But Kate could not help but notice the stiffness between the two. She knew it’d been a good two, almost three weeks since they last saw each other in person—she thought at least one of them would be jumping up and down in joy at the sight of the other.</p><p> </p><p>Edwina was more excited to see Newton than anyone else, to be perfectly frank.</p><p> </p><p>“How are you?” Anthony asked. “I know the last time we talked you were busy. Really busy”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, fine,” Edwina waved off, “but what about you two?” She pressed, hands clutched under her chin. “Are you two getting along?” A giggle escaped her, she shrugging her shoulders. “I mean you have to be if you decided to take a day trip together.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony and Kate glanced at each other, unsure of what to say. Unsure of how to label what they’d become. Because they were friends, that much was obvious now, but the term did not feel adequate.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve gotten to know each other,” Kate finally said.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Anthony added, “one could say we <em>are</em> friends. Kate’s probably one of the few people in my life I don’t want to leave me alone most days.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina beamed, buzzing with happiness. “Yay! I love it. I love that. I love that you two are—” her words halted once a dark hair young woman came towards their table, setting down a to-go cup in front of Edwina.</p><p> </p><p>“They ran out of almond milk so I substituted with oat,” the girl gave a small shrug, “I figured that would be fine?”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina softened. “Perfect. Thanks Josie.” She inhaled deeply, eyes darting between her friend, and Kate and Anthony. “Um, Josie this is my sister Kate and our friend Anthony Bridgerton.” She cleared her throat, smile straining just the slightest.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate, Anthony this is my friend Josie Bagwell,” she motioned to her friend. “She and I are doing the research internship together.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, so also a philosophy lover?” Kate said, hoping she sounded excited. She always tried her best to be enthusiastic about her sister’s passions, as Edwina was for hers. Yet philosophy was a difficult one to swallow. She simply did not understand the fascination.</p><p> </p><p>However, Edwina saw right through her. “Kate and Anthony hate philosophy,” she told Josie.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t hate philosophy,” Anthony tried to correct, but Edwina was not convinced.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony, whenever I talk a word of philosophy you look like I am holding you hostage.”</p><p> </p><p>He deflated at the observation, busying himself with Newton’s leash. “I wouldn’t say that…”</p><p> </p><p>“You do,” Edwina told him pointedly.</p><p> </p><p>“I study archeology,” Josie corrected, speaking up for the first time since initially joining them. “But I’m a big lover of philosophy. Foundation for all thought.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony and Kate shared a similar cringe. “Is it though?” Anthony squinted at the two. “I’m pretty sure thoughts are the foundation of thought.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate coughed into her shoulder, trying her best to hide her snort. She didn’t want to laugh at her sister or philosophy—she really didn’t—but she lost count how many times she thought the exact same thing. She just never had the nerve to say such a remark to her sister. But apparently Anthony did. And he seemed just as surprised he said anything at all.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Edwina answered, blunt. “It really is. Socrates? Considered the father of western philosophy?” She huffed when neither reacted to the name. “See what I have to deal with?” she told Josie, her friend giggling at the jab. “The constant blank expressions when I bring up anything prior to the 20<sup>th</sup> century. But I suppose I still like them despite it,” she teased, turning back to the two, her bright blue eyes filled with mirth. “Any other plans for the day? If you two told me you’d be in town, I would have made time for us to hang out!”</p><p> </p><p>Across from Edwina, Josie quietly shrunk in her seat, fiddling with a napkin.</p><p> </p><p>Kate opened and closed her mouth, before shrugging. “It was a very impromptu trip. And in all honesty we should probably be heading out soon before Anthony’s family starts to worry.” Her eyes darted to Josie then back to Edwina, who blinked innocently up at her. “And we’re the ones interrupting your coffee date with your friend!”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina flushed, shaking her head. “We do this all the time. It’s not a big deal.” Realizing how rude she sounded, she hurriedly made an attempt to retract her words. “Not that I am not enjoying this,” she assured Josie, “I love our coffee time.”</p><p> </p><p>Josie didn’t say anything, slowly nodding in understanding.</p><p> </p><p>The situation only seemed to become increasingly more awkward the more Edwina rambled. “But we have coffee all the time and I haven’t seen you two in what feels like an eternity! An eternity!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate did not have the heart to tell her sister it had only been a week since they last saw each other in person. However a mere week <em>did</em> feel like an eternity. So much had happened in so little time.</p><p> </p><p>“You could always come for the weekends,” Anthony kindly reminded her, “like we initially planned?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Edwina perked. “I’ll come this weekend! I’ll make sure my schedule is clear and my work is done so I can spend the weekend with you two! Oh, I’m so excited.” She clutched her hands to her heart, tickled by the idea. “Anthony, you are going to have to show me everything and introduce me to everyone!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate felt a sudden dread. An unnecessary and stupid sense of panic and loss in one swooping rush.</p><p> </p><p>Because the Bridgertons were going to love Edwina. Absolutely love her. Who could not? Edwina was sweet, kind, and positively perfect despite her fascination with dead philosophers.</p><p> </p><p>Like everyone else in Kate’s life, they’d all immediately realize they had been entertaining the lesser Sheffield. They’d flock to Edwina and Kate would smile like a doting older sister through it all. Because that was what she did and knew how to do well. It was her role in life, and Kate accepted this fact early on.</p><p> </p><p>But that didn’t mean the blow of disappointment didn’t hurt any less.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re excited too,” Anthony said, smiling down at her. A polite and kind smile he rarely, more like <em>not at all</em>, sent Kate’s way. But it was at the ready for her sister. “Right, Kate?”</p><p> </p><p>“Right!” She grinned, feeling breathless. “So excited. Um,” she checked her phone for the time, “you probably don’t have a long break and we’re wasting it away! Enjoy your coffee date and we’ll hopefully see you this weekend.” She brought her sister into a quick side hug, Edwina barely returning the gesture before Kate released her. She turned to Josie, offered a genuine smile, “and it was fantastic to meet you, Josie. It really was. I’m glad Edwina has a friend she can ramble about her passions with.”</p><p> </p><p>“She does like to ramble,” Josie confirmed. “But I like it.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina ducked her head at the compliment, tucking her hair behind her ear—<em>bashful</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A sudden thought occurred to Kate. One she never considered, but the evidence was almost clear as day.</p><p> </p><p>But one she wouldn’t dare bring up to her sister in their current company.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony and Edwina had their own goodbyes, a hug and kiss on the cheek exchanged. Almost identical to their rather mechanical greeting.</p><p> </p><p>But Kate barely paid any mind to the two, glancing over to Josie. Quiet, smart, and seemingly overlooked Josie.</p><p> </p><p>Josie who only had eyes for Edwina.</p><p> </p><p>Kate had never known her heart to break for another until that moment.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Josie Bagwell 👀👀👀👀👀</p><p>And Phillip ISN'T Amanda and Oliver's father in this. I decided to go along the same vein as the show--they are his niece and nephew.</p><p>Anyways...another fun POV! I won't do them often, these last couple of chapters the exception, but I figured y'all would get a kick out of that one and it relieves some of the angst in this chapter, lol.</p><p>*ALSO* this will probably be my last update for the week as life duties call....but I shall return next week! </p><p>Let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Brownie Baked</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been almost 5 days--did y'all survive? Will a nearly 9k chapter make up for it?</p><p>Mind the tags! This chapter earns its 'recreational drug use' tag.</p><p>Slowly responding to comments; I adore reading all what you guys have to say! </p><p>Typos will be fixed later!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>Knocks at two in the morning were never a good sign. Especially in the Bridgerton family.</p><p> </p><p>A knock at two in the morning meant a terrible event had occurred or one was about to happen.</p><p> </p><p>In Anthony’s case, it was both.</p><p> </p><p>“I need your help.” Benedict’s usually relaxed, casual demeanor was stricken with fear. “It’s Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>This statement roused Anthony from his foggy, half-awake state to fully alert.</p><p> </p><p>“What did you do?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict laughed. A nervous laughter only a younger brother possessed when faced with impending doom by the hands of his elder brother.</p><p> </p><p>“As a preamble…” he began, perhaps thinking this could be his saving grace, “I would just like to say I expected her tolerance to be higher.” He crossed his arms, giving a ‘what can you do’ shrug. “She is an artist and many part take in…extra curriculars.”</p><p> </p><p>“What. Did. You. Do?” Anthony stressed, feeling another tension headache forming between his eyebrows. He went to bed early because of a headache, it was only natural he’d wake up to receive another one.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict ripped the band-aid off. “Kate is completely and utterly stoned.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Earlier That Evening…</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I have an announcement!” Colin shot up from his seat, the entire dinner table turning to him with various level of intrigue.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony had been mid-bite of his egg roll. He chewed his food slowly, eyeing his brother warily. Colin having an announcement usually meant two things: he was going to travel somewhere far that would break their mother’s heart…or he was going to suggest an event completely hairbrained and lead the family into chaos.</p><p> </p><p>Both were viable announcements in this situation.</p><p> </p><p>However this night was not the night to do it. For once since holiday began no one complained or cried out about the food or it’s state. However this could have been due to the fact none of the Bridgertons actually cooked; it’d been Eloise and Gregory’s night for dinner and naturally the two found a loophole to the entire “cooking for ten plus people” situation—<em>take-out. </em>Polite conversation transpired with little upset. Everyone, Bridgertons and guests, were content.</p><p> </p><p>And Colin just <em>had</em> to make an announcement.</p><p> </p><p>“Myself and my fellow conspirators, Penelope and Daphne,” Colin nodded to his friend and sister, already all too pleased with himself, “have decided, with Mama’s blessing, this weekend an old family tradition shall be resurrected—Bridgerton Family Field Day!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nearly choked on his egg roll.</p><p> </p><p>Kate jumped at the sound, hurriedly patting his back, as if it would do anything. Catching himself and his breath, he swallowed, feeling the slightest bit of heat smearing across his face at Kate’s concerned glance.</p><p> </p><p>He looked away, shrugging her off.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t like it went she looked at him like that. He didn’t like her when she looked at him at all as of late—at least that is what he told himself—because it made him feel odd. <em>Overwhelmed</em> to be exact.</p><p> </p><p>Overwhelmed with what concerning her? Well, he did not know.</p><p> </p><p>And he wasn’t going to dissect his own feelings and reactions any time soon.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting up, Anthony met his brother’s gleeful eyes with a stern glare. “No. We are <em>not</em> having a field day.”</p><p> </p><p>While field days had been fun in his youth, Anthony recalled these special days to be quite…aggressive and damaging. They, of course, had a fantastic time—extended family and relatives would be invited, more so to properly divide the teams than actual gathering. But it was fun, as much fun as one could have in a competitive family.</p><p> </p><p>However Bridgerton Family Field Day was Edmund Bridgerton’s brain-child. He came up with the idea once mother had been expecting Daphne, he missing his own siblings as life continued to pull them further and further apart. He decided it was only right all the Bridgerton’s should get together for more than just the occasional stuffy holiday, but really be together and have fun.</p><p> </p><p>Yet when he passed…Not a soul dare touch the family event in fear of tainting old memories.</p><p> </p><p>That is until Colin apparently.</p><p> </p><p>“We had a vote,” his brother swiftly deflected, “an anonymous one. Yesterday.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t here yesterday,” Anthony reminded him.</p><p> </p><p>There shouldn’t have been a need to remind him considering not one Bridgerton nor Bassett had let him forget he had up and left for a day trip to London. With Kate. Alone.</p><p> </p><p>The innuendos from Simon and Daphne were enough to make Anthony want to fume in his room for the entire day. When he begged—read: <em>a flustered and heated order</em>—them to stop, the husband and wife laughed.</p><p> </p><p><em>Laughed</em>. In his face.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony once heard a couple who laughs together, stays together and by god Daphne and Simon were going to stay together beyond eternity solely with the amount of giggling they did together at his expense.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily none of this happened in front of Kate, who’d been keeping her distance for the most part, staying tucked up in her room and keeping Newton at her side.</p><p> </p><p>“You snooze, you lose,” Colin put plainly, “if you told us ahead of time you’d be out, then perhaps we could have made an arrangement, but alas dear brother, you did not.” At Anthony’s unrelenting stare, his brother gave a carefree shrug. “You do not need to make all the decisions here, Anthony. We are all adults. We can make them together or have a vote.”</p><p> </p><p>Leaning back in his chair, Anthony tried to keep his blood at low simmer and full blown boiling at the remark.</p><p> </p><p>“As the majority decided—a whopping nine out of ten decision, mind you—Bridgerton Family Field Day shall return this weekend. This will involve a series of games, including the classic tug-of-war, a football match, relay-race, and the family favourite, croquet!”</p><p> </p><p>The table roared to life at the mention of croquet.</p><p> </p><p>“But we don’t even have enough mallets!”</p><p> </p><p>“I will get my revenge! Count on it, brother!”</p><p> </p><p>“Last time I got hit!”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you deserved it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Why croquet? Out of all the games in the world, <em>why</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never played.”</p><p> </p><p>All eyes landed on Kate.</p><p> </p><p>Even Anthony found himself looking at her, wounded by the revelation.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve never played croquet?” he asked, his voice sounding far too loud in the hushed room.</p><p> </p><p>Kate shook her head, her amused yet confused smile growing. “No. Us Sheffields aren’t exactly the sporty type.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony found he could not argue. On the surface both Edwina and Kate were decidedly not “sporty”—one was a bookworm and the other an artist.</p><p> </p><p>“I call Kate on my team!” Eloise cried out. “She will not be tainted by the likes of you cheats!”</p><p> </p><p>“Who says you are getting your own team?” Colin taunted back. “I know in years past we’ve had multiple teams and a bracket, but since it is just going to be us, we’re only going to have two.”</p><p> </p><p>“Two?” Eloise whined.</p><p> </p><p>“Two,” Colin confirmed. “Which will be led by our eldest Bridgerton siblings—Anthony and Benedict.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict was pleased.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony on the hand…he knew this meant <em>war</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“When do we decide teams?” Anthony asked, stepping into his leader role without hesitation. If his siblings wanted him to play, he’d play, but he’d let this be warning.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony did not play games for the sake of playing; he played to win.</p><p> </p><p>And his team was going to win. No matter what. He was going to crush his brother’s team with no mercy.</p><p> </p><p>“Tomorrow,” Colin answered, “to let you two think over your impending selections. Negotiate and whatnot; I am sure you two have plenty to discuss.” He then gave Anthony his charming grin, the one he knew got on his older brother’s nerves. “It also allows Edwina to participate.”</p><p> </p><p>Right. Edwina. Who was coming for a long weekend. Right.</p><p> </p><p>“What if we don’t want to play?”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have a choice Francesca,” Colin shot down, snapping his fingers, “we are all participating to make teams even. Mama however is not, so she will be our ref, tie breaker, and score keeper.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh this does sound like fun,” Violet cooed, thrilled by the idea. “Your father always loved family field day. He’d be so happy we’re bringing the tradition back.”</p><p> </p><p>Her response soothed Anthony. If his mother was alright with this…then he’d simply need to learn how to be as well.</p><p> </p><p>Chatter about field day continued throughout their meal, the excitement for the weekend remaining well intact.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps this was what they needed as a family to revive their spirits. To get them engaged with each other as a whole beyond the spats and teasing.</p><p> </p><p>The talk around the table, however did die down, as more and more family excused themselves as dinner concluded. This left only a few members lingering, seats shifted to sit closer as they worked through fortune-telling cookies.</p><p> </p><p>Or at least were trying to until they were side tracked. Daphne had received a fortune—<em>'Your creativity will shine in due time; patience as the path emerges’</em>—that led them down the road of discussing her wedding gown designs and current employment predicament.</p><p> </p><p>“My goodness,” Kate swiped through the phone Daphne held out to her, “your designs are gorgeous!”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Daphne blushed at the compliment, setting her phone back down. “I’m glad someone does.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon frowned. “That design house simply does not realize the talent they have in their possession.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne smiled widely at her husband.</p><p> </p><p>“I tell her she should start her own design house, her own label, where she could call the shots.”</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone has to pay their dues,” Daphne shifted in her seat, taking a deep breath. “That is what I am doing. After a couple of more years I’ll move on to a different design house or label and maybe I’ll have more say in what I do.” She shrugged. “Now is not the time to start a business endeavor.”</p><p> </p><p>“I say it is,” Kate argued, earning surprised glances from the Bridgertons. “We can’t control when change is going to happen for many things or change the circumstances of life…” she trailed off, giving Daphne a meaningful look. Anthony wanted to groan in his hands—he knew Kate would keep her mouth shut on Daff’s pregnancy but he didn’t expect her to be so…wink-nudge about ‘changes’ and ‘life circumstances’  as she so put. “But sometimes it’s just easier when all the changes come at once. Allows a fresh start. A new chapter.”</p><p> </p><p>Both Daphne and Simon seemed taken with the idea. Though hesitance and suspicion clouded his sister’s expression.</p><p> </p><p>Her cool eyes landed on him. Warningly.</p><p> </p><p>He coughed before popping half of his fortune cookie into his mouth—<em>'Love will be the adventure you always longed for</em>!’—and looked away.</p><p> </p><p>“…and take this to heart—if I was getting married I’d want you to design my gown,” Kate praised, her words deeply earnest. “To say I have a Daphne Bridgerton-Bassett original will hold weight one day. Believe me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll hold you to it then,” Daphne joked, all suspicion gone and replaced with a mischievous glimmer. Anthony knew that glimmer—his sister wasn’t joking in the slightest.</p><p> </p><p>“Then you’ll end up waiting an eternity,” Kate quipped, an forced chuckle accompanying it.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne caught on. “You don’t ever want to get married?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate wavered, unsure of how to answer. To be frank, she appeared uncomfortable by the question. Anthony was prepared to jump and save her from Daphne’s invasive questioning when she did answer.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like to get married.” She paused, lips biting together in thought. “I’d like to fall in love. But I don’t see it happening for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” Daphne cried out, appalled. Her hands gripped Kate’s in a desperate plea. “You are fantastic, Kate! I’ve only known you for a little over a week and I know this.” She turned to the men, eyes vicious. “Is she not fantastic?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate tried to slip her hands away from Daphne’s but the girl was know to have a strong hold.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony felt his jaw tightened. His family was making her feel awkward, he could see it all over Kate’s face, in her eyes. How no one else noticed was beyond him.</p><p> </p><p>“Katherine is brilliant,” Benedict offered immediately, “a fine woman.” His eyes darted to Anthony, a small smirk. “I would consider myself lucky if I ever captured her heart.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne preened at the compliment, as if it were her own. Meanwhile Kate looked on the verge of an eyeroll. She probably thought he was laying the praise on a bit thick.</p><p> </p><p>Simon offered his own small smile. “Kate is fantastic,” he said, echoing his wife’s words. “I am honored to have a friendship with her.” He raised his glass to her before taking a sip of his drink.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony felt like a fool to be sputtering his own half-baked compliment in last. “Of course Kate is fantastic. I know that.” He shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne’s eyebrow twitched up a fraction, a spitting image of their mother when she was miffed and tried her best to not show it. Anthony felt himself gulp at sight and fear for a slither of his life at the sight—god, when did Daphne start becoming mother?</p><p> </p><p>“While that is sweet,” Kate finally edged out, her hands free from Daphne’s clutches, “and I appreciate the ego boost from all of you…I just don’t see myself getting married. I am fine being the cool aunt or adopting a bunch of dogs. Newton would like some brothers and sisters.” Kate could barely handle Newton, another dog would be anarchy. Anthony could picture it—dogs overrunning Kate with ease and she simply accepting, claiming it to be their little natural habits because she would never admit she couldn’t control her pets. “And I have long accepted that.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne deflated.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony felt his own heart sag at her words. How could she not picture herself happily married and with a life a beyond her dog? Kate was beautiful, both inside and out. Sure, she had her moments were she was questionably a menace, but surely someone out there would overlook that tiny detail. Some man would notice just how fantastic and brilliant and radiant she was and not hesitate in winning her over.</p><p> </p><p>They wouldn’t push her away only to bring her far too close for comfort, or pretend to hate her every other hour.</p><p> </p><p>They wouldn’t be like…</p><p> </p><p>He banished the thought. He wasn’t going to entertain silly notions. Like love and marriage and Kate. He knew what he wanted—a loveless marriage with a kind woman who’d find an out and a nice inheritance the moment he kicked the bucket.</p><p> </p><p>All this talk caused his arm to break out into hives. Or at least feel like it was.</p><p> </p><p>“But that doesn’t mean you cannot design me anything,” Kate was quick to amend, trying to fix the situation. “I’d be delighted by any design you’d ever bestow on me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now you are too sweet,” Daphne told her. She sent a glance to Simon, he understanding the signal. “And you don’t forget that Kate, alright?” She stood up with her husband. “We’ll we best be off. Enjoy the rest of the fortune cookies you three!”</p><p> </p><p>As the couple departed, Benedict sighed, head craning back. “And then there were three…” His head then snapped up, eyes squinting at Kate. “Unless you are up for checking out the studio. I did invite you.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate perked, crumpling up the left over wrappers into a pile at the center of the table. “Yes! That sounds great.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony blinked at the two, feeling a whirlwind of whiplash. “Studio?”</p><p> </p><p>“I invited Kate to my studio,” Benedict answered, standing up. “Thought I’d give her a grand tour of the cottage—show her what is at her greatness’es disposal.”</p><p> </p><p>She smiled—a nice, full, excited smile—at his brother’s grandeur. </p><p> </p><p>A cool chill rose through Anthony from his stomach up to his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Kate never—never, ever, ever—smiled at him like that. Never.</p><p> </p><p>Why the hell did Benedict get a smile like that? He barely even knew her! He didn’t go hunt down the fool who hurt Eloise or go on walks with her with Newton or—or—or anything really except for one ridiculous dance!</p><p> </p><p>Daphne’s taunt at Sunday’s dinner party rang louder than ever in his mind. <em>“They do make a handsome couple.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Anthony refused to entertain the idea.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” His eyes darted between the two as they hurriedly cleaned up the remaining mess on the table. “I thought Kate and I…”</p><p> </p><p>She turned to him, confused. “We don’t have any plans.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, I just thought…”</p><p> </p><p>“Just thought?” she implored.</p><p> </p><p>God, what did he think? That he’d barge into Kate’s room and bother her. Play with Newton. Maybe convince her to watch <em>Cats</em> with him so they could both laugh at its ridiculousness and compare it to stage production? No one else in the house wanted to watch it and he’d like to believe Kate would be game.</p><p> </p><p>Truthfully….He did not know what he was thinking, but he knew it involved Kate in some capacity.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought…I’d hang out with Newton.” The statement was more of a question to himself than anything.</p><p> </p><p>“You know what? You can have him for the night,” Kate suggested, “I’m sure Benedict and I will be up late. Newton would be happy to be in your company. He does get antsy being alone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” There was nothing else he could say.</p><p> </p><p>“Great!” She slipped out of the room through the kitchen, Anthony staring after her.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, she’ll be fine,” Benedict nudged his shoulder in passing, “you need to not worry so much.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony didn’t respond, simply staring up at his brother warningly.</p><p> </p><p>“You need to relax,” Benedict told him, “actually…I have these brownies a friend sent—”</p><p> </p><p>“Go!” Anthony bellowed, shucking off his brother’s hand. “<em>Now</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict rolled his eyes, but left.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting alone, Anthony cracked open the last remaining fortune cookie—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Listening to your heart and not your head will lead to demise.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>He threw the cookie across the table.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Wow, its…” Kate peaked over to Benedict, he standing proudly in his studio. “It’s colorful.”</p><p> </p><p>A colorful and chaotic mess. She came to the quick conclusion the studio was indeed Benedict’s home away from home. Clothes stacked haphazardly in one corner, empty paint cans stacked against the wall in some quasi art decoration, but she knew it must have been because he simply did not want to throw them out.</p><p> </p><p>A true artist never threw anything out—never knew when what supply or piece would be needed or repurposed.</p><p> </p><p>Several little work stations were spread out, all of pieces at various points of completion. Tarps and clothes were thrown about, an attempt to keep the floor clean, but not really helping at all. She could barely wade through the sheer amount of stuff laid about the living area.</p><p> </p><p>Paint cans, sketch books, brushes—so many brushes—and chalk. The space reminded her of her own time at uni, when her room would fall into chaos with her various art projects and assignments. However this was all before she switched to education. Before she realized working in a clean and tidy space had it’s own advantages as well.</p><p> </p><p>Namely knowing where the hell everything belonged and was located.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no, you have that look.”</p><p> </p><p>“What look?”</p><p> </p><p>“The same one my art teacher had when I tried to leave the studio without properly cleaning up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is it that obvious.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know how people say ‘eyes are the window to the soul’?” Benedict asked. “Well your face is the window to your thoughts. It has knack of revealing everything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn it.” Edwina had mentioned on more than one occasion that Kate needed to learn how to control her facial expressions when in certain company…but she simply did not know how.</p><p> </p><p>“Like when Daphne asked about marriage,” Benedict continued, ambling back over to her with a glass of water in hand. He passed it to her, Kate accepting the offering. “You looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate didn’t doubt his observation. “I was just surprised,” she justified, resuming her once over of the studio. Benedict followed close by, happy to let her peruse. Perhaps happy to have someone to talk to. He did seem like a lonely fella despite his charm. “You probably know how it is…when you’re not the sibling people look at.”</p><p> </p><p>She stopped in front of a lovely portrait of the garden’s entrance. Gentle blossoms flooded with light and an encompassing welcome. Benedict truly did know how to capture the natural life of the world with honesty.</p><p> </p><p>“A bit,” he confessed, “however I’m the second oldest in a line of eight children. So eyes do occasionally land on me,” he tried to joke, “and eyes most certainly land on you, Kate. You simply do not notice.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyebrows jumped. “That’s a bold statement.”</p><p> </p><p>“A truthful one.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you say.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate moved away from the portrait to the sketches laid out on his desk. Benedict left her to her own devices for across the room, he pushing open the curtains of his large windows.</p><p> </p><p>From the other side of the studio Kate could see what made the studio so special—the windows held a perfect view of Aubrey Hall’s landscape, the sun setting on the horizon. If she were Benedict, she’d probably never leave until she successfully painted to her hearts content.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s stunning.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Benedict sighed, looking out the window, relaxed. “Yeah it is.”</p><p> </p><p>Sketches spread out on his messy desk, Kate quietly sifted through them, a small smile tugging on her lips. Many of the charcoal and pencil pieces were of his family; all recent iterations. Eloise with her sourness, Daphne in her marital glow, and Hyacinth’s mischievous twinkle. “Have you always been an artist? Or did you have a detour along the way?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh I absolutely had a detour,” he called out, fiddling with a record player. “Do you prefer the seventies or the eighties? Or neither?”</p><p> </p><p>“Surprise me.” She set down her glass of water on the mantle, far away from his pieces and continued to admire his sketches of his siblings. She snorted when she found several of Francesca, she in various states of annoyance and delight, as though he wasn’t sure which was the true nature of his sister.</p><p> </p><p>The familiar soft croon of Joni Mitchell filled the studio, she recognizing the tune yet unable to name the song. Sad and melodious, yet Benedict hummed along.</p><p> </p><p>“Detour included working for the family business until I was twenty-seven and realizing I hated the office and should just do art full time. Which is easier said than done.” He picked up a paint brush by his easel and started drying it with a stray rag. Once he was satisfied, he turned to her. “Feel free to keep looking around, or if you want you can pick up a fresh canvas and set up camp. My studio is your studio, my friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate hummed in acknowledgement, taking her time. “So did you just up and quit your job?” she asked, circling back to their conversation. “I cannot imagine Anthony too pleased with that decision.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony…” Benedict sighed, a stretch of disbelief on his face, “was supportive. I am still shocked to say it, but he was and still is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Then again, that reaction wasn’t all that surprising.  </p><p> </p><p>“Really,” he confirmed, dipping his brush into already set out oil paints. “I think he knew I wasn’t happy. Anthony is well attuned to those things.” His hand paused over his work, mouth pinching in deep thought. “My brother, despite his hotheaded and control-freak tendencies, is well aware of other people’s happiness. I like to think he’d do anything to make us all happy, if he could.”</p><p> </p><p>He spoke the truth. Kate had seen this Anthony in action, the one who wanted to protect and care for his siblings, to make sure they were content. She just never expected one of his brothers or sisters to acknowledge this about him—she foolishly thought they were unaware of his intentions, just seeing him as an overbearing brother.</p><p> </p><p>But Benedict noticed. A true observer of life.</p><p> </p><p>“How about you?” Benedict asked, resuming his work. “Always wanted to be an art teacher?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh…” She paused over a sketch of Colin and Penelope, who seemed to be looking at each other, mid-laugh. If she did not know better, she dare say they looked infatuated with one another. Like they could not help but be jolly in the other’s presence. “No. No, I did not. But I cannot imagine doing anything else with my life. I love it. I love the students. I love sharing my love for art.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you made the right choice,” Benedict assured her. “Because teaching is only for those who have the heart for it.”</p><p> </p><p>“But sometimes I do wonder…” She trailed off, glancing around the room. “What if I seriously pursued my art work? But then I think of the statistics and…”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ruthless, exhausting, and not worth it in the long run?” Benedict suggested, a teasing smile forming.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Kate chuckled. “Then I remember I am stubborn and logical and as much as I love creating…I like creating in the comfort of my own stability.” Her eyes widened, realizing there could be a judgmental implication to her words. “Not that I think that’s the case with you—you are talented and your work is acknowledged and you have commissions and…”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict laughed, holding a hand up for her to stop. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe this profession wasn’t too exhausting from time to time too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” she breathed, relieved. “But you’re happy, yes? Doing this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he said. “Happy as one could be.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” She wasn’t too sure why she was so concerned with Benedict’s happiness; maybe it was the melancholy atmosphere his space possessed despite it’s colorfulness. Or the twinge of longing—or was is loss—in his eyes when he was in a big room or at the dinner table.</p><p> </p><p>There was something under the surface of Benedict; while Kate wasn’t going to pry….she wasn’t going to <em>not</em> try to get to the bottom of it in her own way.</p><p> </p><p>Coming to last few sketches, her hands stilled.</p><p> </p><p>One was of <em>her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She looked…radiant. Bright. Clever.</p><p> </p><p>Not like herself at all, but she knew it was her, for her name was scrawled out in the corner.</p><p> </p><p>She chewed her lips together.</p><p> </p><p>“You found yours didn’t you?” Benedict asked, the sudden quietness confirming his suspicions. “I was wondering when you’d stumble upon it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t look like this,” the words flew out of her, ready to deflect and defend. “This woman is…beautiful. I could never look like this.” She tucked the sketch back where it was, unable to look at it any longer.</p><p> </p><p>“You do,” Benedict countered, standing up from his station. He came over to her side, plucking where she hid the sketch. He stared down at it proudly. “You really do.”</p><p> </p><p>“When?” she pressed, believing he wouldn’t find an adequate answer.</p><p> </p><p>“When you are with Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>Air was caught in her throat. Strangling and struggling for release, she unable to recall how to exhale.</p><p> </p><p>She did not what to say. She didn’t know what to do.</p><p> </p><p>Because apparently she looked like someone else—a happier, beautiful, delightful person—when she was around Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>So she turned back to sketches, deciding to ignore the remark all together. She reached for a unorganized stack on the opposite end of the desk.</p><p> </p><p>“What are these?”</p><p> </p><p>All teasing and nudging vanished from Benedict. “Kate, actually—"</p><p> </p><p>A smooth jaw and intense eyes of a man greeted her. She flipped through the next one—same man, different angle. And again—same man, different lighting. Each sketch was of this nameless yet captivating man, each made with loving strokes of a pencil. Almost like a wordless love letter.</p><p> </p><p>Kate knew about art modeling and all its varieties, she participating as an artist in the classes once upon a time. She knew not every person in an artist’s art work held a relationship with the artist.</p><p> </p><p>But this was different.</p><p> </p><p>Completely and utterly different.</p><p> </p><p>This was <em>Love</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She blinked, tears in her eyes, moved by the work. “Benedict…”</p><p> </p><p>He did not snatch the pieces away from her, nor did he yell or tell her to get out.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict looked relieved. As though a small burden was lifted off of him. “Please don’t tell them. I’m not ready yet.”</p><p> </p><p>Swallowing, she looked back down at the sketches. “Does anyone else know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise,” he said with an scoff, his own eyes watering. “Damn girl does not know when not to probe. Probably Pen too. I like to think….” He gave a sad smile. “I like to think Anthony knows too. That at least the thought has occurred to him.” He bit his lips together. “It’s Mama I worry about. I don’t want her…I don’t want her to see me different,” he confessed, wiping under his eyes. He cleared his throat, looking away from her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate could not speak for Anthony. She could not speak for any of his family. But she could speak for herself. “He’s handsome,” she remarked, a cheeky grin forming, “and looks kind.”</p><p> </p><p>“He is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Want to tell me about him?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict’s genuine, in-love smile was answer enough.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“This movie is shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Sinking deeper into the sofa, Anthony scowled at Eloise. “That’s why we are watching it. To laugh at its shitty-ness.”</p><p> </p><p>Her nose wrinkled, eyes glued to the television screen. “I hate that you can see the outline of their bodies. We don’t need to see all of…<em>that</em>.” She shook her head, disgusted. “I don’t understand how this is funny.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is funny!” Anthony insisted, waving to the screen. “They are CGI cats! Dame Judi Dench is a cat. Jennifer Hudson is a cat. I never thought I’d see something like that in my life.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise rolled her eyes, snuggling closer with Newton. “You need to get out more. Hate watching? That’s a new low. Even for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t really watching the movie, more so using it as a way to get Eloise into the same room. It would have been easier if Kate was there, his sister always up to hang out with the eldest Sheffield rather than her own brother.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily Eloise was up for a movie in the den. Anthony just didn’t tell her it was <em>Cats</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“So…” Anthony drawled out. “Anything new in your life?”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise’s head slowly turned to him, eyes narrowed. “No.”</p><p> </p><p>“No?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay…” He drawled out, adjusting his glasses. “How is school going?”</p><p> </p><p>“School was fine. I’m on holiday so not much is happening at the moment. Just some more research for my thesis.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right.” Anthony didn’t even bother to try to understand what exactly his sister was studying. He knew it had to do with literature, but that was the extent of his knowledge regarding her studies. And the fact he helped pay her tuition. “Seeing anyone?”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise snatched the remote and paused the movie.</p><p> </p><p>“Why the sudden interest in my life?” she asked, not one for beating around the bush.</p><p> </p><p>“Because I am your older brother,” Anthony answered, trying his best to be nonchalant. “Because you use to tell me everything, even barging into my flat unannounced, prior to a few months ago. I want to catch up.”</p><p> </p><p>Clicking her tongue, Eloise leaned back into the cushions, remote tucked under her arm. “I wasn’t do that on purpose, the not talking to you. It just sort of happened. No need to don’t get all emotional and offended.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony fumed at the accusation, “I’m <em>not</em> emotional and offended!”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you ever hear yourself?” Eloise squinted at him. When Anthony didn’t answer, she sighed. “I’m sorry? I guess? I’ll talk to you more about life starting now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, fine…” Anthony inhaled deeply, glancing back at Eloise. “Anyone new in your life? Any new friends? Or…<em>boyfriends</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Horror morphed on Eloise’s face, her jaw dropping.</p><p> </p><p><em>She knew he knew</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She knew he knew! God, he thought he was being subtle!</p><p> </p><p>The remote was chucked at him. “What do you know!”</p><p> </p><p>He barely had enough sense to duck at the object before Eloise went lunging for him, arms flailing. Newton yelped, jumping off the sofa for the safety of the ground.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony did not have any such luck.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you know!” Eloise roared in his face, attempting to pin him down. “Tell me!”</p><p> </p><p>He gripped at her biceps, pushing her away. Yet Eloise persevered, elbowing him in the gut and pulling him into a headlock.</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise!” he seethed, trying to shuck her off of his back. “Get off!”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>—” She was crushing his windpipe and her knee dug into his side; she was not going to show mercy until he spoke up. Anthony knew he was going to die young, but he’d preferred to not die at the hands of his twenty-three year old, scrappy sister. “Fine! I know about Phillip!”</p><p> </p><p>A cry of disbelief came from her, Eloise’s hold loosening for a second.</p><p> </p><p>A moment of release.</p><p> </p><p>Only to come back full force in a blink of an eye, Anthony unable to flee from her grasp. “How the hell did you find out about Phillip? Answer me!”</p><p> </p><p>“Sunday dinner!” He crawled at her hands, finally getting a grip to rip her off of him. He heaved, struggling to catch his breath. “You were drunk! And called him! In the study!”</p><p> </p><p>With one quick tug, he got her off his back, Anthony shooting up from the sofa.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise remained sprawled on the sofa, painful betrayal shining in her eyes. “I…you…I thought I was alone—I remember some of the phone calls,” she blinked, eyes watering, “<em>but I was alone</em>! I remember being alone! And…and…” She opened and closed her mouth, a vicious glare forming. “How the hell were you there?”</p><p> </p><p>He did not think this far. He did not think he’d ever confess to how he knew, let alone being forced to confess what exactly he’d been doing that night in the study.</p><p> </p><p>He rubbed his neck, looking up at her sheepishly, apologetic. “I was in there when you came in. Kate and I both were. We—”</p><p> </p><p>“I cannot believe you!” Eloise scrabbled off the sofa, facing him. “You were there? And what you hid?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes—”</p><p> </p><p>“With Kate! With your girlfriend’s sister!” She vibrated in anger, pacing the room on a war path. “In the study. It does not take a genius to figure out what you two were doing—”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t like that, Eloise!” Anthony argued, needing her to know he was still respecting and honoring the relationship he had with Edwina. He wouldn’t dare, no matter how many times the thought occurred, have anything with Kate. Never.</p><p> </p><p>“What a load of bullocks!”</p><p> </p><p>“It has never been like that with Kate.” Anthony stood taller, staring down at his huffing and puffing sister, trying his best to not feel thoroughly beaten by her accusations. “Believe it or not I try my best to be a decent human, which means not giving into urges or acting like a child like you are now!”</p><p> </p><p>“‘Acting like a child’?” She scrubbed her face, looking up at him between her fingers. “You may try to act like a decent human being, but maybe for once in your goddamn life act like a fucking good brother!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m trying!” Anthony felt Eloise was slipping away from him, further and further from the wide eye, brilliant little sister he knew to grown woman who wanted nothing to do with him. “I’m trying here, Eloise! I really am—I even went to go find this bastard who broke your heart and give him a piece of my mind!”</p><p> </p><p>“You talked to Phillip?”</p><p> </p><p>Her voice broke at his name.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise crumpled.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stepped toward her, ready to comfort her. Be the older brother she needed.</p><p> </p><p>“Go away!” She stepped away from him. “Just go the fuck away, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise—”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” She ordered, marching out of the room. “I don’t want you around me! It’s like everything you touch bursts into chaos. You probably made matters a thousand times worse!”</p><p> </p><p>He ignored stinging slap of her words, following after her. “I was trying to help. Trying to understand why you kept this from us. From me.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise whirled around on him, hazel eyes ablaze. “Maybe you should figure out your own ridiculous love life before you go meddling in mine!”</p><p> </p><p>She stormed up the stairs, Anthony letting her go without a fight.</p><p> </p><p>But his restraint did not stop the strange prickle of regret from consuming him.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“When Anthony said you were gifted with watercolors, I decided to take his word with a grain of salt,” Benedict stared in awe of her quick work of the Aubrey Hill landscape, “but he was not exaggerating in the slightest.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate beamed at his praise. She didn’t get to spend time with many artists outside of her students, Benedict’s comments and input more than welcoming.</p><p> </p><p>So often she felt she created and nothing came of her efforts. No growth. No change. No audience. The longing and desire to work on her craft combated her self-esteem, which unfortunately had a habit of winning in her worst moments.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict’s encouragement was exactly what she needed. Deep down she knew she needed an artistic community, a support system to push and discuss and to simply understand.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” Kate examined her strokes, eyes darting between her view and her painting. “It still needs lots of work…but this is the most I’ve done in a long time. I so often find myself in front of my easel and coming to a blank.”</p><p> </p><p>“The right environment and the right headspace can do wonders.” He gestured to his studio. “The magic this place holds astounds me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I wouldn’t go as far as to say this place has ‘magic’,” Kate eyed the little messes around the studio, “but there is a charm. A relaxed charm.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict perked, hopping off his stool and into the kitchenette. “Speaking of relaxed—” He came back with a plate of delectable chocolate, “Care for a brownie?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.” Kate picked a square from the top of the pile, taking a decent bite. “Mmm!”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t go overboard,” Benedict warned, grabbing his own square.</p><p> </p><p>“Please, I’ll be fine,” she waved off, turning back to her piece. She popped the rest of the brownie into her mouth and reached for another one.</p><p> </p><p>(Little did she know those would end up being famous last words…)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>Fifteen After Two In the Morning…</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I love your hair!” Her hands sloppily ruffled up his bedhead even more. Anthony felt his jaw tighten, blinking down at her.</p><p> </p><p>Her wide blown eyes met his, though there was hardly any recognition in them.</p><p> </p><p>Rolling on to her stomach, Kate bopped his nose. “And your face. Always grumpy, grumpy….” She giggled to herself, face dropping into the cushion. Her hand slapped at his cheek, petting at his jaw like he was Newton. God, she probably did think he was Newton with how high she was.</p><p> </p><p>Crouched down beside her, Anthony slowly turned to his brother, mouth in a sharp line.</p><p> </p><p>“What the <em>hell</em> did you do to Kate?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict groaned into his hands. “I didn’t think she’d react like that!” Lifting his face up, he winced. “I offered her a brownie.”</p><p> </p><p>“A brownie?” Anthony echoed, standing to his feet. Kate’s loose hands latched on to his arm, trying to yank him down beside her. An ill attempt considering her grip was like a soft noddle. He caught her before she could completely slip off of the sofa.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Benedict confirmed, sucking his teeth. “And then she ate like…<em>five</em> more?”</p><p> </p><p>“Five more!” Anthony near roared.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought she knew what they were and had a high tolerance!”</p><p> </p><p>“Does she <em>look</em> like she has a high tolerance?”</p><p> </p><p>Half of Kate’s body was still on the old sofa, legs lazily kicking while Anthony held up her up at the waist. She started pulling on the drawstring of his hooded sweater and kept pulling until the entire string was pulled out.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sighed, glaring to his brother.</p><p> </p><p>“Gah! Stop yelling at me!” Benedict pushed himself off his desk, ambling over to the kitchenette of his studio. He filled up a glass with water, hurriedly drinking it. Perhaps trying his best to better sober up. “It was a mistake. They happen. She’s a grown adult; not my fault I assumed she’d gotten high at least once in her life prior to this. She’ll be fine in the morning.” He shrugged. “Maybe more relaxed. She is a bit high strung.” He paused, a smirk forming. “Kind of like you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh sod off,” Anthony grumbled, gently removing Kate’s hands from his face. Again.</p><p> </p><p>“Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy mannnnn,” she drawled out, singing off-pitch.</p><p> </p><p>A wayward finger poked at him, aiming towards a nostril. “Kate, you need to stop,” he ordered her quietly. She pouted at him, eyes too big and pleading.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony had to look away, gulping.</p><p> </p><p>“So what?” he asked Benedict. “You’re gonna let her ride it out here?”</p><p> </p><p>“I woke you up so you can take her,” Benedict gestured to the door, “get her out of here. She already tried to get into the paints. I don’t need her to ruin any of my pieces.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are such an arsehole,” Anthony muttered. “You invited her here!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah…” Benedict nodded, “and we had a great time. Lots of talking and painting and then the brownies happened and….” He shook his head. “She kind of killed the vibe.”</p><p> </p><p>“You killed the vibe,” he shot back, gathering Kate in his arms. She was able to somewhat stand, but walking turned out to be an entirely different beast.</p><p> </p><p>Wrapping his arms around her, Anthony carefully began to lead her out of the studio.</p><p> </p><p>“Have a good night, dear Katherine,” Benedict said, opening the studio door for the two. “And don’t stay up too late fretting, brother.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bye-bye-bay-bay-bye,” Katie rambled, popping her lips on every other word. She tried to wave but only ended up slapping the side of Anthony’s face, skewing his glasses.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate,” he brought her hand back down to her side, “come on.”</p><p> </p><p>She wiggled out of his grasp and tapped his glasses. “You can’t <em>see</em>…”</p><p> </p><p>Realizing if he tried to walk with her across the deck she was more than likely to fall into the swimming pool, Anthony decided to reconsider his options. He wasn’t exactly keen on fishing out a higher-than-a-kite Kate from cold water in the middle of the night.</p><p> </p><p>He could carry her, but there was also the fact she seemed to have an odd obsession with his face and hair at the moment. Her fingers continued to stroke at his temples, mumbles of ‘grey’ falling from her lips.</p><p> </p><p>Soon he knew what to do, no matter how humiliating it would be. Crouching down before her, he nodded behind him. “Hop on my back,” he told her with a defeated sigh.</p><p> </p><p>“A piggy-back ride?” she cried out, hands slapping to her face in shock. Her eyes immediately began to water. “I love piggy-back rides!”</p><p> </p><p>Of course she did.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on,” Anthony urged, grasping her hand to pull her closer, “so we can go to bed.”</p><p> </p><p>With his aid, she climbed on to his back, arms wrapped securely around his neck. She lowered her head, pressing her temple to his. “We have one brain. One, one, none….one brain cell.” Her mouth was right by his ear, her lips tickling against him.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony squeezed his eyes shut. “You good?” he asked, getting a good hold of her.</p><p> </p><p>“Yup! Lead on stead!” She tried to whoop and holler like a cowboy, only for it to sound like a painful moan.</p><p> </p><p>Taking her word, Anthony slowly stood back up and made the trek back into the house. And naturally, High-Kate could not keep her hands to herself. Or her mouth to herself.</p><p> </p><p>He was positive she was trying to eat his hair like a grazing cow.</p><p> </p><p>She also sang. A lot. And off key.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Dancing in the moonlight, feeln’ breezy and bright</em>!” She thumped the side of his head, miming the beat as he climbed up the stairs. “Ooooo….”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony winced, but pushed through, both their rooms in sight as he turned the corner. However he was faced with a new dilemma.</p><p> </p><p>Did he leave Kate <em>alone</em> in this state?</p><p> </p><p>He was sure she’d fall asleep within the hour, but still, he didn’t want to leave her to her own devices for long. The woman could barely stand on her own, for crying out loud.</p><p> </p><p>A tiny whimper came from behind Anthony’s door. The scratch of Newton’s nails on the door told him the poor little guy was getting anxious. He’d probably woke up and panicked once he realized Anthony was gone.</p><p> </p><p>His decision was already made for him; Anthony cracked open the door to his room. He slipped in, Kate still on his back, however far quieter than she’d been on the trek up the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>Newton skittered back at the sight of both of them, scurrying up on to the bed as Anthony walked over. Unceremoniously he deposited Kate on to the bed, she flopping to her side into a fit of high pitched giggles.</p><p> </p><p>“Wooo! Again, again!” She wheezed, smothering her face into his rumbled sheets. Never in his life did he think he’d see Kate in his bed, let alone rolling around like she was cat, arms and legs stretching out lazily.</p><p> </p><p>Newton waddled over to Kate, liking her face. She squirmed away, nose wrinkling. “Don’t kiss me like that.”</p><p> </p><p>The poor pup looked up at him, confused as though sensing something was off with his mummy.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m never letting him near you with those brownies again,” Anthony muttered, his annoyance with Benedict growing with each passing moment.</p><p> </p><p>Her giggling ceased, she smacking her mouth open and closed. “My tongue feels funny.”</p><p> </p><p>“Funny how?” Anthony implored, trying not to sound too demanding or anxious. He didn’t need her to freak out in this state.</p><p> </p><p>“Funny…dry,” she mumbled, dropping her head back down on to the bed.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony left her for his ensuite bathroom, grabbing an empty glass from his bedside for her. From the bathroom he could hear her struggling to sit up and move around.</p><p> </p><p>Once the glass was filled, Anthony made his way back to the bed.</p><p> </p><p>Only to freeze at the sight of Kate topless.</p><p> </p><p>Well, nearly topless. Her shirt was stuck on her head, she yanking and pulling at the fabric with little luck. Her bottoms situation was no better, one leg out of her leggings but with a shoe still intact while the other lacked a shoe but was still covered.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony set down the glass, hurrying over to her before she accidentally choked herself. “Why on earth are you taking off your clothes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Stuffy,” she grumbled, muffled.</p><p> </p><p>He helped her get her shirt off, only to realize he now made her completely topless except for her bra. And as much as he’d like to admire the view of her chest, he knew better to not—if Kate was coherent, she’d skin him alive.</p><p> </p><p>It also didn’t help Newton had already commandeered Kate’s old shirt, pulling it under him to nest.</p><p> </p><p>“Gah!” He scrambled around his room, trying to find something for her to wear. Spotting his brown sweater hanging over his chair, he grabbed it and slipped it over Kate’s head.</p><p> </p><p>Her thick wavy hair made a more of a mess of the situation, tangling together. Frantically, he combed her hair away and quickly got her dressed, helping with one arm and then the other. He then righted her leggings situation, removing the remaining shoe and getting her left leg back into her pants with little kicking.</p><p> </p><p>“There,” he exhaled, not even aware he’d been holding his breath in the first place, “no more stripping, got it?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate blinked blearily at him, unaware nor acknowledging what had transpired. Exhausted was the best way to describe her. Rightly so; it’s been a long day and her little episode probably didn’t help.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay then....” With gentle hands he aided her with climbing under the covers. When she curled on to his side of bed, he didn’t complain, instead he grabbed a pillow from the opposite side and dropped it along with a throw blanket on to the floor. “Let me know if you need anything, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>As he shut off the lights, he notice her twisting and curling her hair between her fingers, utterly fascinated by the phenomenon.</p><p> </p><p>Shaking his head, Anthony crouched down to the floor and laid down on his makeshift bed. Newton soon joined him, hopping off the bed and curling at his side. At least he could rely on the corgi to keep him company.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s face popped over from the edge of the bed, staring down at Anthony, eyes wide. “I have to tell you a secret…” Half her face was pressed into the mattress, only one eye on him. She reached a hand down, index finger tapping his mouth. “You can’t tell anyone. No one. Not a sound.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Anthony humored her, Kate still tapping his lips. “Go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think…” Her face scrunched up in hard concentration. “…Eddie…likes Josie.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony grabbed her tapping finger. “I would hope Edwina liked her friend. That’d be a shame if she didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Noooo,” she drawled out, lazily slapping his face with her other hand. Half her body was now hanging off the bed, a miracle she had yet to tumble off. “Eddie likes her in the kissy way. Kissy-kissy way.”</p><p> </p><p>The laugh Anthony felt bubbling inside him stuttered still, Kate’s sloppy words registering. “What are you talking about?”</p><p> </p><p>Her mouth was smacking again. Anthony sat up and passed her the glass. Kate drank it greedily, setting it down once done. “Eddie wants to kiss Josie. I think she really does….” Her face pinched, in pain. “But you can’t tell Anthony. He’d be sad and…and I can’t have Anthony sad. It makes me sad.”</p><p> </p><p>His body went cold.</p><p> </p><p>She was so out of it she couldn’t even comprehend she was talking to <em>him</em>, the very person she didn’t want to know about this ‘secret.’</p><p> </p><p>And she apparently thought Edwina and her friend Josie liked each other, romantically.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t too sure what to do with this information. Mostly because Kate was compromised, and anything and everything she said should be taken with a grain of salt.</p><p> </p><p>Yet the sinking feeling that Kate was telling the truth wouldn’t leave him. Not even as he tucked her back into bed, refilled her water, and laid back down on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it was because he wanted to believe Kate <em>did</em> care about him that much, enough to make her sad when he was sad, as juvenile as it sounded. Maybe he wanted to believe Edwina <em>did</em> like someone else and would be the one to end their relationship, instead of him.</p><p> </p><p>That maybe these feelings—whatever they were—he felt for Kate weren’t one sided.</p><p> </p><p>God, he hoped his feelings weren’t one sided.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I initially outlined this chapter, angst wasn't the main focal point but somehow it became it? lol.</p><p>Soooo much happened, ekk.</p><p>We got some art hoes, some awkward convos and confrontations, a High-Kate, and most importantly BRIDGERTON FAMILY FIELD DAY--AKA Y'ALL ARE GOING TO GET SOME PALL MALL. AHHHHHHH.</p><p>And sorry Sophie fans. I am. But I am rolling with the vibe of show-verse Benedict *shrugs*</p><p>ALSO--KATE CASTING WAS ANNOUNCED Y'ALL. AND THIS GAL IS SCREAMING IN DELIGHT. I was literally finishing up this chapter when the announcement was made so PLEASE BY ALL MEANS PICTURE SIMONE ASHLEY AS KATE. I always imagined Kate as Desi or Latina so I am actually freaking out and sobbing in happiness.</p><p>EDIT 2/16/21: I updated the tags! This fic is also now tagged Kate Sharma as well in both the relationship and character tags!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. A House Divided</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Slowly responding to comments, but know I adore and appreciate every single one :)</p><p>Warning: there is some angst, Edwina related angst, but it's brief! But worry not, lots of laughs in this chapter too.</p><p>I mostly skimmed this chapter soooo....Typos will be fixed later!  </p><p>Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kate woke to the sound of Newton’s whimpers. He was ready to go out to relieve himself, but she had zero motivation to lift her head from the pillow and out from the covers despite needing to tend to her dog.</p><p> </p><p>Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to will herself up—</p><p> </p><p>“Newt, <em>hush</em>,” came a groggy groan.</p><p> </p><p>She stilled.</p><p> </p><p>Eyes snapping open, Kate was met with the sight of grey flannel sheets, a shocking contrast to the pale pink of the Rose Room.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly she lifted the sheet from over her head, her heart near hammering out of her chest.</p><p> </p><p>Kate came to a quick conclusion the room was not her own. Muted olive green walls, vintage mahogany dresser and bedside table, sleek and modern lamps, and a leather chair overflowing with yet to be folded laundry.</p><p> </p><p>Men’s laundry.</p><p> </p><p>A squeak escaped her. Panicked, she turned on to her opposite side and smothered her face back into the sheets.</p><p> </p><p>Only to recoil.</p><p> </p><p>Because tucked into the furthest end of the bed was Anthony, asleep over the covers. His chestnut hair was fluffed up more than usual, a proper bedhead, and a scruff had began to grow along his jaw. The most disheveled she’d seen him since his and Newton’s unfortunate tussle at the lake.</p><p> </p><p>Mouth open, drool pooled out of his mouth on to his pillow.</p><p> </p><p>Kate found herself disgusted yet fond of the sight.</p><p> </p><p>She never pegged Anthony to be a drooler, yet there he was making a puddle.</p><p> </p><p>Lifting her head ever so slightly, she noticed he was completely dressed. Sweats, jumper, and wooly socks all intact.</p><p> </p><p>A sigh rattled through her, Kate flopping back down on to the bed.</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t recall exactly how she ended up in his bed, but at least she knew she didn’t try anything of the sexual nature. At least it seemed like she didn’t based off of both their dressed states. And she couldn’t picture Anthony as someone to take advantage of a situation.</p><p> </p><p>All she could remember was hanging out with Benedict in his studio, painting, snacking and…</p><p> </p><p><em>Brownies</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Things went blurry after brownies.</p><p> </p><p>Kate slapped her face with both hands, groaning. “I’m a fucking moron.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” was mumbled beside her.</p><p> </p><p>Her head lulled to the right, Anthony’s face scrunching up as he came back to the land of the living. Wiping at his jaw, he yawned. He shifted his pillow, tucking his drool spot away from view.</p><p> </p><p>She almost laughed. Almost. After all, she was still in bed—though innocently enough-with Anthony. Her brain did not know how to compute this situation like a level headed human being. One part of her want to leap out of bed and demand answers, the other part—the one with a fuzzy brain and dry mouth—wanted to not move and stay there until she inevitable had to use the restroom.</p><p> </p><p>So she stayed, but scooted further back, increasing the distance between her and Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t need conformation,” she grumbled, curling into herself.</p><p> </p><p>“But I was happy to give it,” he teased, another yawn interrupting his words. Rubbing at his eyes, he sighed. “Do you remember anything from last night?” he asked gently, though still fighting off the dredges of sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Kate pursed her lips, attempting to recall the previous nights events. “I remember brownies—”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then…a piggy back ride?” She distinctly remembered seeing the top of Anthony’s head and feeling tall.</p><p> </p><p>“That did happen.”</p><p> </p><p>“And the song ‘Dancing In the Moonlight’.”</p><p> </p><p>“You sang that,” Anthony hummed, face contorting in deep pain, “right in my ear.”</p><p> </p><p>An apology was on the tip of her tongue, yet Kate thought better. “Did it sound like…” she deepened her voice, prepared to give another terrible rendition, “‘<em>Dancing in the moonlight—</em>”</p><p> </p><p>A pillow was shoved in her face.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Anthony groaned through a tired chuckle, “no—<em>no singing</em>. You cannot sing for your life. Never again.”</p><p> </p><p>She cackled into the pillow. Poking her head over the top, she met his grumpy, sleep-deprived stare. “Does my singing offend your ears?”</p><p> </p><p>“Beyond offend.” Rubbing his eyes once more, he reached for his glasses and slipped them on. “But nothing else is jumping at you?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate blinked, concerned by the question. Maybe something <em>did</em> happen. Then again, Anthony wasn’t acting weird. Or as weird as Anthony could act. Nor was he blowing his top off or fuming.</p><p> </p><p>He just looked tired. Exhausted. Like he wasn’t prepared to face the rest of the day.</p><p> </p><p>“Should something else be jumping at me?” she demanded, sitting up. “You’d tell me if I did something stupid,” her eyes narrowed on him, “<em>wouldn’t</em> you?”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t immediately answer, mouth opening and closing.</p><p> </p><p>Newton whimpered again, leaning up on the edge of the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“I need to walk Newton,” Anthony declared, pushing himself up.</p><p> </p><p>Kate scrambled up after him, kicking off the sheets. “No! No you don’t! You need to tell me if I did something stupid.” She grabbed him around the shoulders before he could walk too far away, firmly keeping him in place. “Tell me, Anthony!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s nothing!” He insisted, attempting to shake her off. Yet Kate held on.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t believe you!” She held on tighter, trying to pull him back. “What did I do? What did I say?”</p><p> </p><p>Loosening her grip around him, Anthony turned to face her, grasping her forearms. “Kate—you said nothing! You did nothing!”</p><p> </p><p>“I still don’t believe—”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine!” He huffed. “You said….” He shrugged, giving a cheeky smirk. “You said you love my hair.”</p><p> </p><p>She scoffed, getting an arm free and swatting his chest. “No, I did not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Specifically my grey hair,” he continued, “a very flattering compliment. Really.”</p><p> </p><p>“I still don’t believe you,” she sputtered. Sure, she’d occasionally—<em>very occasionally</em>—think his hair was nice. Fluffy and chestnut and grey; a nice combination on him. But she’d never in a million years, high or not, tell him so. At least she thought she wouldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>But now she wasn’t too sure.</p><p> </p><p>“Believe me. Don’t believe me. Doesn’t matter because that is all I’m going to tell you because it is the truth.” With that he pushed her back to the bed, his mocking face staring down at her. “Also, you tried to eat my hair. My hair,” he ran a hand through his locks, “was in your mouth.” He pointed to her, his own face flushing despite his laughter at her.</p><p> </p><p>In an instant the memory flashed before her eyes—</p><p> </p><p>He was giving her a piggy back ride back to the house and she’d been resting her cheek on the top of his hair. And then she was mouthing at his hair. For no apparent reason except for the fact the thought occurred to her and she did it.</p><p> </p><p>“No.” She tried to deny even though she could now remember with some clarity. “No…”</p><p> </p><p>A gleeful shock consumed him, Anthony jaw dropping. “You remember! You remember!”</p><p> </p><p>“No I don’t!” She huffed stubbornly, annoyed.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes you do! Yes you do!” Anthony clapped his hands together, practically hollering in chortles. “God, you do and you—”</p><p> </p><p>She flung a pillow at him. “Stop it! I did not know what I was doing!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony caught the pillow, lifting it to smack her back. Except Kate grabbed hold and yanked him back towards the bed. Tumbling down together, yelps and giggles escaped them both, though that did not stop a pillow fight from commencing between the two.</p><p> </p><p>Kate snatched another pillow, abandoning the one she and Anthony fought over and smacked him over the head.</p><p> </p><p>His glasses knocked off, falling somewhere further down the bed.</p><p> </p><p>He froze before turning to her with a deep, menacing scowl. “That’s not fair!”</p><p> </p><p>“Who said I played fair?”</p><p> </p><p>To further prove her point, she tackled him down with her fluffy weapon.</p><p> </p><p>She just didn’t expect him to fall off the bed, her going down with him.</p><p> </p><p>Her face smushed into his chest, arms caught between their bodies. Anthony fared no better, getting the brunt of the fall, not bothering to catch himself but instead wrapping his arms around Kate.</p><p> </p><p>“God,” he groaned through a pathetic snort, “that’s going to leave a bruise later.”</p><p> </p><p>Lifting her head up, Kate cringed at him, hands splayed on his chest. “I didn’t think I shoved that hard.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t grumble or shout, simply at a loss. Then he looked down at her, smiling—a gentle teasing smile. “Why is it you are always falling around me, Kate?”</p><p> </p><p>Face warm, Kate pushed herself up, only to finding herself straddling him in her haste to get up. “Um—sorry—I’ll—” When she began to crawl away, his hands remained on her waist. Holding her, warm and inviting.</p><p> </p><p>Startled, she looked down at him.</p><p> </p><p>Dark, desperate eyes stared back at her. The lighthearted air between them faded into stillness, a burning pull bring him closer to her.</p><p> </p><p>The bedroom door swung open. “Anthony, are you awake—”</p><p> </p><p>Violet Bridgerton’s words broke the spell. “Mother!” he squawked, head snapping to her in utter horror.</p><p> </p><p>He shoved Kate off of him, but the damage had been done if Violet’s god smacked expression were anything to go by. Anthony climbed up to his feet, Kate quick to follow after him, she trying to busy herself with folding the throw blankets tossed around. Trying her best to act like she wasn’t about to do something entirely inappropriate with Violet Bridgerton’s son because Kate wasn’t too sure if she could live down the embarrassment.</p><p> </p><p>However by the way Anthony was trying to <em>casually</em> hold a pillow in front of him she knew this was not a moment to be easily forgotten. For anyone involved.</p><p> </p><p>Despite clearly reading the room, Violet did not duck out. She remained rooted at the door, stone face as she addressed her son. “It’s half past ten. I was being to grow concerned considering both of you are morning larks.” Her eyes shifted from Anthony to Kate. “And this also solves are missing Kate situation.”</p><p> </p><p>Biting her lips together, Kate could not help but feel properly chastised.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony cleared his throat, standing taller. “Mother, you can’t just barge into my room. I’m not a child—”</p><p> </p><p>“Edwina is here,” Violet said over him. “Just got word from the front gates. She’s arrived with a friend. I see it best you two go greet her.” Sending Anthony one more imploring look, Violet left, leaving the bedroom door wide open.</p><p> </p><p>Newton scurried out at the first sight of an exit.</p><p> </p><p>Kate nodded to the door. “I should probably—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Anthony affirmed. He tossed down the pillow on the bed, marching straight to the bathroom, slamming the door shut.</p><p> </p><p>He came back out a second later, jaw tight.</p><p> </p><p>“I need my glasses.” He waved to the rest of the room. “I don’t know where they are at. And I am not going to crawl around the floor looking for them.”</p><p> </p><p>Spotting his glasses by the foot of the bed, the dark brown frames blending into the caramel-brown duvet, Kate grabbed them. “Here.” She passed the pair over to him, staying at arm’s length.</p><p> </p><p>He muttered a ‘thank you’ and went back into the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>Glancing back to the rest of the room, Kate tried not to think of what she would have done if they had not been interrupted.</p><p> </p><p>She came to an rapid conclusion—she could not be left alone with Anthony, by any means, for the rest of her stay. Or at the very least, the rest of the day.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Kate!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony squeezed his eyes shut at Edwina’s high pitched squeal. The young woman charged right past him to her sister, jumping into Kate’s arms. Both sister’s hugged each other for dear life, as though they had not seen each other a few days prior.</p><p> </p><p>He supposed the random run in did not count in their eyes.</p><p> </p><p>By the car Josie hesitated, lingering off to the side seemingly unsure of what to do with herself. Luckily Colin, who’d been nosey like all the other Bridgerton’s lingering by Aubrey Hall’s foyer, jumped in to help her with luggage.</p><p> </p><p>“Gosh, I am so excited to be here,” Edwina cheered, dropping back down to her feet. “With all the phone calls I get I cannot wait to finally see how magical this place is!” She turned to Anthony, arms wide. He accepted her hug, she rocking him back. Anthony was glad he switched to his contacts, he positive she’d knock his glasses right off with her buzzing and jubilant movements.</p><p> </p><p>“You brought Josie?” Kate asked quietly, eyes darting to her sister’s friend. Colin was joking with her, the shy woman starting to relax in his company.</p><p> </p><p>Edwina glanced back at the woman in question before turning back to her, perplexed. “Yes. We actually couldn’t completely slip away from our work. We’ll probably be finishing up some work this afternoon.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate wasn’t pleased with the explanation, her smile down turned and arms crossed over her chest. “But you can’t just invite your friend to someone else’s house, Eddie,” she peeked over at him, before lowering her voice, “it’s rude. You know better.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina’s lips pinched together at the quiet scolding. “But I didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“She texted me,” Anthony finally said, unsure if he had room to speak between in the sisters’ spat. “Late last night. Asking if Josie could tag along for work reasons.” Kate’s head snapped to him, stunned. “I would have told you, but you were already, uh, <em>asleep</em>.” He raised his eyebrows, Kate catching the drift. Her lips pursed; Anthony assumed she probably wasn’t keen on telling her sister of her little trip the night before. “I told her Josie could come along. As my mother always says, the more the merrier.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina beamed at him and Kate. “See? I wasn’t being rude. I asked. And Josie needs to get out. She’s always with her books.” She rolled her eyes. “We are both in dire need of some fun times.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you two came on the perfect weekend,” Colin announced, leading Josie over to them. “We are reinstating Bridgerton Family Field Day, and you Miss Edwina have no choice but to participate!”</p><p> </p><p>“It sounds fun!” Edwina bumped her shoulder with Josie. “Doesn’t it sound fun?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine with watching,” she insisted. “I’d be happy to cheer you on from the sidelines.”</p><p> </p><p>A pinkish hue flooded Edwina’s cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Eddie likes her in the kissy way. Kissy-kissy way.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Anthony cleared his throat. “Why don’t we go inside? I am sure Mother would like to meet you and we can show to your room and—”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought Edwina was sharing with me,” Kate reminded him as he started to lead the group back inside.</p><p> </p><p>“All the rooms on the West Wing are occupied,” Anthony told her, “Edwina and Josie will stay together in the East Wing. I have a room being made for them.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s sharp eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Anthony,” she hissed, voice low enough for just him to hear.</p><p> </p><p>“And I think it is a <em>perfect</em> idea, Kate,” he stressed back.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Eddie wants to kiss Josie. I think she really does…</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>While Anthony wasn’t initially too sure on following Kate’s stoned musings about her sister, when Edwina’s text came in at three in the morning, he knew he had to see the situation for himself.</p><p> </p><p>Because if Edwina did like someone else—if she liked Josie—then he wasn’t going to keep her trapped in a relationship she didn’t want. Yes, this would sideline his plans and force him to reevaluate how he’d move forward. He wanted to marry. To have children, mostly to continue the family name as his father and his father’s father did before him. He wanted to be with a woman he liked well-enough for his last few years and not grow to fond of an attachment to her; if this woman wasn’t going to be Edwina, he need to know soon and act fast.</p><p> </p><p>And sometimes this meant forcing his girlfriend and her friend to share a room together so they could sort out whatever it was that may or may not be happening between them. Even if Kate didn’t understand his intentions of doing so at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>Kate huffed, turning away from him as they climbed up the remaining steps into the house.</p><p> </p><p>“Edwina, it is so nice to finally meet you,” his mother greeted the girl, pulling her in for a brief hug. “We’ve been awaiting your great arrival,” she joked.</p><p> </p><p>“Happy to be here.”</p><p> </p><p>Politely Josie came forward, holding her hand out to his mother. “Josephine Song Bagwell, but Josie is fine. It is an absolutely pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bridgerton.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, please call me Violet. Both of you.” Violet turned to her few surrounding children—Colin, Hyacinth, and Gregory—she prattling off introductions with finesse. She knew how to introduce all eight of her children in one breath, naming off three was a simple task for her. She waved the girls over to follow her. “Let’s get you two settled and then we can sit together for a nice brunch.”</p><p> </p><p>His mother chatter continued as she led Josie and Edwina to the East Wing, fading once they were out of sight.</p><p> </p><p>This was, of course, his siblings cue to gossip.</p><p> </p><p>“I like Josie. She’s been to Greece!” Colin declared coming over to Kate and Anthony, who’d still stood by the door where inductions had been made seconds ago. “Seems to be quite the cultured one. Can’t say that for many around here,” he teased</p><p> </p><p>“She studies archeology,” Kate supplied. “Is that cultured for you?”</p><p> </p><p>“More fascinating than cultured,” Colin corrected, yet his curiosity did not waver.</p><p> </p><p>“She and Edwina seem close,” Gregory remarked, staring off where the girls disappeared. “Both are lovely.” His sighed dreamily.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony refrained an eyeroll; leave it to his youngest brother to develop silly crushes on two women he’d never have a chance with.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting beside Gregory on the stairs, Hyacinth’s held tilted, observing Kate with great intrigue. “You and Edwina don’t look a lot alike.”</p><p> </p><p>Honestly his youngest sister lacked all the tact in the world. “Hyacinth—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” Kate waved off, rolling her eyes, unbothered. “We get it all the time. Edwina and I are technically half-sisters. We share the same father.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek, leaning over to the two teens conspiratorially. “By the way, her blonde hair isn’t natural.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s brows furrowed. “It’s not?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not,” Kate said, turning back to him, if not a tad smug. “She’s been dyeing it for years, but the color suits her. Mary, her mother and my step-mother, is a blonde.” She gave a small shrug, however Anthony wasn’t too sure Kate truly believed her own words.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth shrugged. “Whatever the case, you are both beautiful.”</p><p> </p><p>Beside him Kate stilled, appearing utterly baffled by the offhanded compliment.</p><p> </p><p>His sister stood up, nudging Gregory to follow. “I don’t know about you all, but I am famished.” With that she excused herself, Gregory following after, though not without longing glances to where Edwina and Josie left off to.</p><p> </p><p>Colin was quick to go after, perking at the implication of food, though not addressing them with a cheeky grin. “Isn’t that Anthony’s sweater, dear Katherine?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate looked down at herself, as though completely forgetting she was dressed in anything in the first place. She was still wearing his brown sweater, the one he hastily pulled on her the night before. Neither had time to change at Edwina’s arrival, scurrying about to make themselves the least bit presentable.</p><p> </p><p>Her cheeks darkened, a frustrated scowl directed to Colin. “Maybe? I don’t know.” A wicked delight flashed in her eyes, she sniffing the air around him. “Isn’t that Penelope’s perfume? All-over you?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony snorted.</p><p> </p><p>Colin’s face dropped. He took a step back. “I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Peonies and—” She inhaled through her nose, humming to herself as she recognized the rest of the scent. “—vanilla? She always does wear that, doesn’t she? Lovely on her.” Squinting up at Colin, Kate had him trapped in place. “You should probably do something about that before other’s start to notice. Or before you start commenting on other’s, dear Colin.”</p><p> </p><p>His brother stood petrified. His mouth opened and closed, perhaps realizing anything he did or said would be held against him by the ever clever Kate.</p><p> </p><p>In that moment, Anthony had never been more attracted to a woman in his life.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m…going to go eat,” Colin finally said with a stuttering and panicked chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what I thought.” Kate smiled up at him. “See you in a bit!”</p><p> </p><p>Colin hurried out of the foyer, not glancing back once.</p><p> </p><p>“That was possibly the most impressive intimidation I have ever seen in my life,” Anthony praised. “I have never seen Colin so…”</p><p> </p><p>“So guilty?”</p><p> </p><p>“So <em>scared</em>,” Anthony blurted out, amused at the scene replayed over in his mind. “I’m going to need to stick you on him more often if it means that he’ll shut up from time to time.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate shook her head, shrinking in on herself. “No. No—I am already feeling bad for even mentioning Penelope to him and doing <em>that</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Scoping out the rest of the room, he faced her again, dropping his voice low. “How did you know about him and Pen?”</p><p> </p><p>She rolled her eyes. “How does one <em>not</em> know about him and Pen? The love-y eyes, the constant sneaking into each other’s rooms,” her nose then wrinkled, cringing, “the occasionally loud sex.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony kept his face straight. “I thought that was the ghost.”</p><p> </p><p>She cackled, head thrown back. “Yes, because ghosts engage in sexual intercourse!”</p><p> </p><p>“Some could!” He insisted. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen a ghost in action!”</p><p> </p><p>Her full, hearty laughter continued, echoing in the foyer.</p><p> </p><p>His heart stuttered at the sound, the desire to make her laugh increasing by tenfold. He could listen to her all day and never grow tired.</p><p> </p><p>A startling and damning realization for Anthony.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Edwina charmed the Bridgertons like no other. As Kate expected.</p><p> </p><p>She laughed at all the right jokes. Smiled demurely at the praises of her academics. She asked the right questions, all sensitive and light, genuinely curious. Within the hour she agreed to a walk with Gregory around the grounds, a movie session late that night with Francesca and Hyacinth, and volunteered to help Colin and Penelope with cooking dinner that night.</p><p> </p><p>Kate chomped down on her avocado and egg toast as she watched Edwina easily bounce from conversation to conversation.</p><p> </p><p>Her polite, sweet, and well-mannered little sister knew how to gracefully float in the room. How to eat daintily and without making a mess.</p><p> </p><p>Kate on the other hand…</p><p> </p><p>“You have avocado on your face.” Anthony motioned to corner of his own mouth for reference. “By the corner of your mouth.”</p><p> </p><p>She snatched a napkin from the table and wiped it away.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” she muttered, ducking down back into her food.</p><p> </p><p>Yet she still felt his gaze linger on her. Like had been all morning. Ever since…</p><p> </p><p>Kate popped a raspberry into her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Her thoughts could not betray her. She couldn’t let her mind wander over to what had happened that morning. A fleeting misjudgment. Perhaps a wrong reading of the situation (it could have been her imagination playing tricks on her—making her think Anthony was leaning closer—close enough to…).</p><p> </p><p>Nothing had happened and nothing would ever happen.</p><p> </p><p>She just had to keep reminding herself of this fact.</p><p> </p><p>And act normal. If she acted normal, then he would act normal. Like they were back in the foyer. That was normal-ish…except for the way he stared at her after. Kate had all but fled for her room before anymore jokes of ghostly sexual intercourse could be made.</p><p> </p><p>Lifting her gaze, she spotted Josie sitting across from her, attempting to follow along with the conversation at the table. A difficult feat considering the Bridgertons could be discussing four different topics at once, shouting over each other to get a word in.</p><p> </p><p>Kate caught on quick to the flow of the table, but Josie…</p><p> </p><p>Poor Josie looked lost. Out of place.</p><p> </p><p>She’d been sat smack dab between Penelope and Gregory while Edwina was placed between Eloise and Kate. The girl was too far away from Edwina to have a proper conversation, and her dining companions weren’t exactly the best in the bunch. Gregory was far too consumed with catching Edwina’s attention while Penelope and Colin were lost in their own little world.</p><p> </p><p>Kate wanted to sit beside her. She wanted to try to get to know Josie better. Except she’d been shoved along to her seat usual seat beside Anthony when she arrived for brunch.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony who had been silent, save for her avocado face, for most of brunch.</p><p> </p><p>When the chatter lulled, Kate leaned over to him. “Are you making any plans with Edwina this afternoon?”</p><p> </p><p>His eyebrows furrowed, mouth forming a line. No answer.</p><p> </p><p>“Because her schedule seems to be getting booked up,” Kate said, giving a small eyeroll. “And I would like to have a moment with her today too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Make plans with her.” Anthony pushed around the remaining tomatoes and mushrooms on his plate, avoiding her gaze. “I’ll find time to be with her. We have all weekend.”</p><p> </p><p>Accepting his rather lackluster response (she expected him to be more adamant about spending time with Edwina, not complacent to her ever growing plans) Kate nudged her sister.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want come with me on Newton’s walk after brunch?” she asked, popping another raspberry into her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Her sister perked at the idea, agreeing without hesitation before returning to her various conversations.</p><p> </p><p>Kate resumed her meal and quietly excused herself once she was done. She was positive no one noticed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A piece of paper was slapped on his desk, flipped over to a blank side.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony lifted his eyes from his laptop screen to Benedict. “What’s this?”</p><p> </p><p>His brother sat on the edge of his desk, arms crossed with a dead-set determination in his eyes. “My team roster. For Family Field Day.”</p><p> </p><p>“You made a roster?” Anthony leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up on his desk. “For Family Field Day?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict clicked his tongue, clearly not buying the nonchalance. “As if you didn’t?”</p><p> </p><p>Reaching over to his laptop, Anthony spun it around, showing his brother his typed up and near finalized roster. “Of course I do. This is merely roster iteration number five.”</p><p> </p><p>“Five?” Benedict howled.</p><p> </p><p>“I am not married to any list. I need to have my options open.” He clicked on another tab, another roster popping up. “Because knowing you, you won’t budge on certain people.”</p><p> </p><p>“And knowing you, at least half of the house hates you right now,” Benedict taunted back. “So you need back-ups to your back-ups.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does everyone around here talk?” He swore the gossip in his own house was worse than Lady Whistledown.</p><p> </p><p>“Merely an observation,” Benedict explained. “Like the fact Eloise will not stop glaring at you, or Colin is avoiding you <em>and</em> Kate like a plague. Then there is Daphne who looks at you with her ‘mother is disappointed’ look—by the way, why does she look so much like Mama when she does that?” Benedict shudder. “It gives me the heebie-jeebies.”</p><p> </p><p>“She got it the moment she married,” Anthony said, aggravated by the fact he was the object of his sister’s current disappointment. He picked up Benedict’s list and scanned the names. “No way am I giving you all these people. You cannot have Colin <em>and</em> Simon on your team!”</p><p> </p><p>“Then give me three guarantees and I’ll give you three. Everyone else can be free game and we can hash it out before tonight,” Benedict suggested. A quick, planned suggestion.</p><p> </p><p>His brother knew how to play him well.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, Anthony turned his laptop back around, checking his own lists. “Start naming people.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gregory?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nearly scoffed at the name. He loved his brother dearly, but he lacked a certain competitive spirit he needed to win. “Take him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hyacinth?”</p><p> </p><p>“I call her.” His youngest sister however was far too much like him and would play dirty to win. He wasn’t about to let her slip from his grasp. “How about Francesca?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict’s eyes narrowed. “If I am taking Gregory, you better take Francesca.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony rolled his eyes. “Fine. She’ll be on my team.” He opened a new document, typing out his two guaranteed teammates. “Eloise?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict frowned down at him. “Is that really a question?”</p><p> </p><p>“Take her,” Anthony relented without a fight. While he’d prefer to have his most athletic sister on his team, he knew their fraught relationship would only bring trouble.</p><p> </p><p>“Glady.” Benedict snatched a pen from Anthony’s desk, marking up his roster changes. “Daphne?</p><p> </p><p>Anthony chewed his lips together and scratched at his jaw. He knew Daphne wasn’t pleased with him. She was smart enough to figure out Kate probably knew about her pregnancy to some degree and only one person could have told her. His sister probably wanted nothing to do with him until she found the time and patience to speak with him—whenever that would be.</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, Anthony could not stand the thought of her accidentally getting injured in her current state. If she was on his team, then he’d have more control over how she exerted herself. She’d have someone who knew and understood on her side.</p><p> </p><p>“My team. I’ll take her.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the three guarantees for you brother.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony glanced back down at his list—Simon, Penelope, Colin, Edwina, and Kate were still undecided. He knew he had to throw Benedict a bone, especially since he claimed Daphne. “You can have Simon.”</p><p> </p><p>His brother’s head snapped up, thrilled by this news. “Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t have Daphne and Simon on the same team,” Anthony huffed, twiddling a forgotten pen between his fingers. “They’d be giggling with each other the entire time.”</p><p> </p><p>“That is true.” Benedict paused, eyes lighting up in thought. “If you are going based off the logic couples or certain pairs—,” he wiggled his eyes brows up and down, “—cannot be on the same teams then…” he gave Anthony a mocking wince. “Then that means Penelope and Colin cannot be on the same team and Edwina cannot be on yours.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony eyed his brother warily. “You are not suggesting I have Kate on my team, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>His brother shook his head, thrown for a loop. “I didn’t even mention Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“The fact you didn’t mention Kate <em>was</em> a mention of Kate,” Anthony shot back. He leaned back in his chair once more, tossing his pen up and down. “I’m not having her on my team.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict adjusted himself on the edge of the desk, startled by the news. “Why not? Aren’t you two ‘besties’ now?”</p><p> </p><p>He tried to scowl at the term, or at very least remain neutral, yet his smirk could not be hampered. “We’re friends. Good friends. All the more reason why I want to crush her.” He chuckled at the thought of her indignation, her huffing and puffing when she lost by <em>his</em> hand. God, it was so <em>fun</em> to irritate her.</p><p> </p><p>If he was going to get any enjoyment from Bridgerton Family Field Day, then it was going to be watching Kate slowly lose her composure with each passing game.</p><p> </p><p>“You are a man with a death wish.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s chest clenched at the term. “Maybe I am. But at least I’ll die laughing at Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” Benedict scribbled on his paper. “I get Kate and you get Edwina. Which leaves Colin and Pen.” He gagged at their names. Glancing back down at his roster, he snorted. “If you take Pen then you’d have an entire brood of women on your team. Can you handle that?”</p><p> </p><p>Panicked, Anthony scanned his current roster again—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hyacinth</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Francesca</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Daphne </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Edwina</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, god no,” Anthony bemoaned, dropping his head against his desk. He loved his sisters, he did, and he loved women. He knew men, himself included, could be colossal dumbasses and in anything else he’d gladly be part of a team of women and be told what to do. However, these were his sisters—sans Edwina—and they were Bridgertons. This roster screamed trouble.</p><p> </p><p>Face pressed against the desk, Anthony peeked up at his brother, forlorn. “And Colin is my other option—correct?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict patted his shoulder, yet the gesture did little to comfort.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t have much of an option here, did he?</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll take Pen,” he decided, slowly lifting his head. “She’ll try her best. Colin will openly sabotage me, doesn’t matter if I’m on his team or not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect!” Benedict marked the latest changes. “This was a fantastic negotiation brother. I basically got everyone I wanted! Can’t wait to see our teams in action!”</p><p> </p><p>With blistering realization, he discovered he did give Benedict exactly what he wanted, spotting the roster. Check marks and Anthony’s own team list the new additions to Benedict’s paper.</p><p> </p><p>He’d been bamboozled; talked around in circles until he gave his brother his dream team.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony shot up from his desk, ready to chase after his brother like he’d done so many a time his youth. “You bastard! I’m going to kill you!”</p><p> </p><p>“A clever bastard!” Benedict called out, dashing to the door, roster in hand. “See you at dinner!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony bit the inside of his cheek, shoulders hunching. Oh, he was going to crush his brother’s team. Crush them to pieces if it was the last thing he did.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I cannot believe this has been your view for the last week,” Edwina sighed, legs stretched out across the grass. Sitting together by the lake, the two watched Newton sunbathe. His little legs twitched and kicked in the air, content to be outside with his two favourite women. “If I were you, I’d never leave.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate looked out to the rolling hills of the Aubrey Hall estate. The garden was not too far off, the full bloom flowers the colorful focal point on the property.</p><p> </p><p>“I do like it here,” Kate confessed, fiddling with Newton’s leash. “I like the countryside more than being in town. I like walking Newton out here. The early mornings are quiet and misty.” She scratched her dog’s belly, his tongue lulling out at the tender touch. “If I could be here forever, I would,” she found herself agreeing with her sister’s sentiment.</p><p> </p><p>“Then you should!” Edwina bumped her shoulder with Kate’s. “Marry a Bridgerton and stay here forever.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate gapped at her sister, shoving her back. “I’m not going to marry a Bridgerton just for their estate, Eddie!”</p><p> </p><p>Her sister fell into a giggle fit, collapsing against the grass. Kate laid back, joining her. Together they stared up at the passing clouds, patches of sun peeking through.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad you like it here.” Edwina’s hand reached for Kate’s, clasping them together. “I was so worried you’d hate it considering how much you loathed Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t loathe Anthony,” Kate was quick to correct. “I never loathed him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then ‘despised’ or ‘disapproved’.” Edwina swung their hands up and down, then side to side. “Never the matter, there doesn’t seem to be any of those between you two anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>No, there wasn’t any true hostility or ‘loathing’ between her and Anthony. There hadn’t been for some time, not since they began to know each other as more than ‘Edwina’s sister’ and ‘Edwina’s boyfriend’, but know each other individuals.</p><p> </p><p>“He and I are friends.” Somehow the term felt like an understatement.</p><p> </p><p>“Good! I knew the moment Eloise told me about him, you and Anthony would hit it off. It only took months to get you two to meet. And now look at you two! Two peas in a pod.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate frowned, sitting up. “Why were you so adamant about Anthony and I meeting? You never liked me meeting your boyfriends in the past.” Mostly because Kate had a habit of scaring them off if they weren’t good enough—none of them were ever good enough—but Edwina was different about Anthony. She was always insistent for Kate to meet him.</p><p> </p><p>Her sister’s smile froze, a panic in her eyes. “Because…because I knew you two would get along?” She sat up. “Why does it matter?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re acting weird.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You’re</em> acting weird,” Edwina echoed back, scooting away from her. “Why does it matter?” she asked again. “You two are friends! And you seem so happy around him. I want you to be happy Kit-Kat.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate softened at the childhood nickname. But she knew what her sister was doing. She was deflecting. Changing the subject. Swerving around the question.</p><p> </p><p>If her sister wanted to act this way, then she might as bite the bullet and bring up the matter that’d been bothering her for days since their surprise run in. “Speaking of friends—<em>Josie Bagwell</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina bristled at the name. “What about Josie?”</p><p> </p><p>“‘What about Josie’?” Kate repeated back, unsure of how to address the matter without being tactless or insensitive. “You two seem close. The closest I’ve ever seen you with a woman and you’ve never mentioned her. Not once.”</p><p> </p><p>Her sister began to breathe heavily, at though the air had been knocked out of her. She avoided Kate’s gaze, focusing on petting Newton. “She’s a friend, Kate. I don’t know what you are trying to say.”</p><p> </p><p>Her words were harsh. Forced. Terrified. Her sister’s entire body trembled, not daring to look up at her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate had never heard Edwina like this. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know what were the proper words to say; so she ran on instinct. Because this was her little sister and she didn’t want her little sister to be afraid of her in any way.</p><p> </p><p>Her hands found Edwina’s, threading their fingers together like they always did.</p><p> </p><p>“Eddie,” she brushed her sister’s loose hair behind her ear, now able to see her face, “you can tell me anything. You know that, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Her sister nodded. She wiped under her eyes, blinking rapidly.</p><p> </p><p>Yet Edwina didn’t say anything.</p><p> </p><p>“If…if you like someone else,” Kate began, Edwina’s grip tightening, “then you shouldn’t be in a relationship with someone you don’t like. It’s not good to lead someone else on; everyone gets hurt that way.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina nodded again. “I know,” she croaked out. “I know.”</p><p> </p><p>Freeing her hands, Kate wrapped her sister into a hug, Edwina curling into her. Together the two sat, holding each other, Kate hoping her sister knew she was safe and loved in her arms.</p><p> </p><p>“I like her a lot,” Edwina mumbled into Kate’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Kate patted down Edwina’s soft curls, the light breeze ruffling up her hair. “I can tell.”</p><p> </p><p>She rested her head on top of Edwina’s and looked down the hill at Aubrey Hall. In the distance she spotted a familiar head of auburn hair and a tall man walking together towards the garden, giggling together. Colin and Penelope were ridiculous, dancing with each other’s emotions, but adorable. Further down by the swimming pool she saw Simon and Daphne sitting together, taking afternoon tea outside. She did not need to be nearby to know they were smiling at each other, the two unable restrain their pure joy to simply be in the other’s presence.</p><p> </p><p>Kate thought of Edwina and Josie; how the young, soon-to-be archeologist gazed at her sister like she hung the moon. That’s all she ever wanted for her sister, for someone to love her the way she should be loved.</p><p> </p><p>“I think she likes you too,” Kate said, holding Edwina tighter. “I really do.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina lifted her head, eyes watering. “I need to break up with Anthony. I’ve been needing to for a long time.” She sighed, troubled. “I don’t want him to hate me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony could never hate you,” Kate confessed, incapable of imaging Anthony genuinely hating Edwina. She could picture him being sad, or disappointed, but never angry at her sister. “If you speak to him in earnest, I doubt he’d be too offended. Believe it or not, he does care about other people’s happiness, probably more than his own.”</p><p> </p><p>The concern pinch in Edwina’s brow melted. “You know a great deal about him. More than I ever have.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like I said, he and I have become good friends,” Kate justified, ignoring her sister’s growing cheeky grin. “You have nothing to worry about, Eddie. Trust me.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“<em>The Bridgerton Family Field Day rosters have been posted in the den</em>!” Colin called out to the entire house. “I repeat—THE ROSTERS HAVE BEEN POSTED IN THE DEN!”</p><p> </p><p>On either side of Colin, Anthony and Benedict winced.</p><p> </p><p>“God, he can wake the dead with that shout,” Benedict muttered, eyes snapping shut.</p><p> </p><p>“At this point I am positive I’ll lose my hearing within the month.” Anthony rubbed his right ear, praying the ringing he was hearing was a placebo effect rather than an actual ruptured eardrum.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh shut it,” Colin slapped a hand on both his brothers’ shoulders, “one day you’ll be glad for the pipes I’ve been bestowed.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony wasn’t too sure about that, recalling his conversation about ‘ghosts’ that morning, but he knew better than to argue with Colin on the matter.</p><p> </p><p>Thundering of feet sounded from upstairs and down the hall, Hyacinth the first to come running up to the bulletin board on the back wall.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” She pumped her fist in the air. Whirling around, she dashed up to Anthony, their hands clapping together for double hi-five. “Team A for the win!”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s right!” He cheered with her, looping an arm around her shoulder. “Like I’d ever let you be on anyone else’s team.”</p><p> </p><p>His youngest sister beamed up at him, wrapping her arms around him, practically vibrating in excitement.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony glanced over at Benedict, smug. There was no doubt who was Hyacinth’s favorite brother.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>Gregory and Francesca followed in minutes later, though neither seemed pleased with their placement.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on,” Benedict nudged Gregory, “don’t look so glum. We’ll have fun!”</p><p> </p><p>The eighteen year’s eyebrows jumped up. “When has any game with you two been ‘fun’?”</p><p> </p><p>Neither Benedict nor Anthony had a response. Bridgertons were competitive; they played to win. Gregory simply hadn’t developed this particular trait. Yet.</p><p> </p><p>Francesca didn’t say a word, merely saluting Anthony and leaving the den all together.</p><p> </p><p>Not a terrible reaction from someone who didn’t want to participate in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise scoffed at the sight of the roster, only to cry out when she noticed Penelope was on the opposite teams. “Who the hell made that decision!”</p><p> </p><p>“Joint effort,” Benedict answered.</p><p> </p><p>His sister wasn’t entirely convinced, glaring at Anthony. Penelope, however, was far kinder about the results. “I look forward to it,” she cheerfully told Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>He silently reminded himself to be gentle with Pen on the field. She didn’t need to be shouted at or pushed to perform better. The girl was in it for the fun, and he had to respect her enthusiasm to some degree.</p><p> </p><p>When the last four on the roster finally made it down to the den, none of them were happy. Except Edwina—no surprise there. She was too sweet to cry out indignation. Not like her sister who was still staring at the roster, mouth in a firm line.</p><p> </p><p>“You separated us!” Daphne stood before Anthony, Benedict, and Colin, fuming. “You put Simon and I on opposite teams! How dare you!”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict held his hands up. “Now sister—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you ‘now sister’ me,” she spat, sharp eyes darting between the three. “I want to be on the same team as my husband.”</p><p> </p><p>“All decisions are final, Daff,” Colin chimed in.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne’s head snapped to him, jaw set.</p><p> </p><p>Colin gulped, trying to smile through his fear. “We, uh, we decided to instate a new rule for Family Field Day.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hands rested on the her hips, lips pursed. “And what is that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Married couples are not allowed to be on the same team,” Anthony answered, prepared to receive his sister’s wrath. He did not mind being the object of her indignation, he more suited to handle Daphne’s upsets and outcries than his brothers. “We believe married couples on the same team will cause distractions. Field Day isn’t for distractions. It is for playing and winning.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a stupid rule.” She stepped up to him, chin held high, ready to fight with her words. “So when you are married, you aren’t going to be one the same team as your wife?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony did not need to take a second to think, already know his answer. “No. We won’t be on the same team.”</p><p> </p><p>She huffed, arms crossing. “Then I am holding you to it, Anthony Edmund Bridgerton,” she warned. She turned on her heel and marched out of the den.</p><p> </p><p>Simon, who’d been silent for the entire debacle, stared after her.  </p><p> </p><p>“Any objections to your team?” Benedict asked, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“No,” Simon answered. “I look forward to Field Day. It’s been some time since I’ve participated in good game.” He nodded to Anthony. “And I am ready for a rematch Bridgerton—don’t think I haven’t forgotten our last game of croquet. Tripping an opponent with a mallet is foul play.”</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t believe in foul play here,” Anthony reminded him. “We believe in doing whatever it takes to win.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon rolled his eyes and took his leave. A rematch would happen and he’d soon learn to never cross a Bridgerton at croquet. But all in due time.</p><p> </p><p>Last but not least, Kate turned to the three. “I’m excited.”</p><p> </p><p>His stomach swooped at the vicious gleam in her eye. “Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Really,” she nodded, unfazed, “it should be fun.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fun</em>?” Colin uttered. “I feel as Field Day coordinator, I should warn you ‘fun’ is a rare occurrence. This is serious business.”</p><p> </p><p>“I never said it wasn’t,” she assure him. “I just cannot wait to defeat Anthony out on the field. Especially croquet.”</p><p> </p><p>His brothers’ hoot of laughter filled the air, Edwina’s shocked chuckles joining in.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony scoffed, crossing his arms. “No one—I mean <em>no one</em>—has ever defeated me in croquet.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yet</em>.” The word stabbed through the air, Kate serious of her ambition. “No one has defeated you yet. But I’m going to change that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Confident for a woman who has never played croquet in her life.”</p><p> </p><p>“I spent my evening studying the game,” Kate shot back, “I’m a quick study.”</p><p> </p><p>“Croquet is not something you can read or watch,” Anthony told her, finding her stubborn determination amusing, “it is an <em>experience</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I am about to experience the hell out of it!”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s my girl!” Benedict cheered, holding his hand out for a fist bump. “We’re going to crush them!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate collided her fist with Benedict’s, though not without shooting Anthony a teasing grin. “Absolutely!”</p><p> </p><p>“Come with me dear Katherine—let’s start strategizing.” Benedict dragged Kate along, she barely able to shout out a ‘goodbye’ to the rest of the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait! I want to strategize!” Colin called after them, running to catch up. “Wait for me!”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head at the three; he could only hope Kate could keep up with Benedict and Colin’s back and forth. Those two together were utter trouble. Kate being on their team would actually serve them good; a splendid twist of events for Benedict’s team and an unfortunate fact for Anthony’s.</p><p> </p><p>Beginning to head to his bedroom to turn in for the night, a throat cleared behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Edwina sat on the edge of the sofa, giving him a small wave. “Do you have a minute to talk?”</p><p> </p><p>He felt a bit foolish for not noticing her sooner. After all, she came in with Kate and did not leave with her, nor shouted a goodbye amongst the ruckus. Logically he should have known she was still there.</p><p> </p><p>But then again, she <em>did</em> come in with Kate, and it was hard for Anthony to notice another person when she was in the room. Even if said person was Edwina.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” Anthony came to her side, only for Edwina to hop off the sofa and nod to the entryway.</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, can we walk and talk?” She chewed her lips together, eyes darting around the room. “I…I don’t really want anyone eavesdropping or accidently listening in.”</p><p> </p><p>He understood. With so many people under the same roof, it was difficult to conduct a private conversation.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony offered his arm. “It’s perfect weather for an evening stroll.”</p><p> </p><p>Looping her arm through his, Edwina relaxed yet held on to him tight. “Why don’t you lead the way? I’m sure you know it best.”</p><p> </p><p>This was the closest they’d been in weeks, yet Anthony could not help but feel Edwina’s mind was miles away.</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, he did not question her and led the way down the lit cobblestone path of the estate.</p><p> </p><p>If she wished to speak, he’d listen. If not, then he was content to be by her side.</p><p> </p><p>However he knew once they returned back to the house, he’d have to bring their time together to an end. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>WE GOT SOME SEXUAL TENSION. WE GOT EDWINA AND JOSIE SONG BAGWELL IN THE HOUSE. WE GOT TEAMS. WE GOT A BREAK-UP ON THE HORIZON. </p><p>So much happened and so much more to happen! Ahhh.</p><p>Btw--I added the Kate Sharma tag to this fic (character and relationship)! I am down for a name change in the fic if y'all want it, but I am cool with leaving Kate as Sheffield. On another note--personally, as a minority, I appreciate the surname name change for the show; I don't think it will change much of her character, if anything, but enhance who Kate is. That's my two cents on the matter *shrugs*</p><p>Let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Moonlight Musings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Today's chapter is brought to you by the word and theme 'courage'--meaning a lot of characters have courage in this chapter, also the ones who need it the most DON'T have courage in this chapter 😂</p><p>If you have not listened to Maggie Rogers' "Say It" PLEASE LISTEN TO IT. It is absolutely Anthony and Kate in this fic and that is why I used part of the lyrics as the title to this fic.</p><p>Anyways...</p><p>Slowly responding to comments! Please know I adore all of them and love responding back! You guys are honestly some of the sweetest readers I have ever had and I thank you so much for the love and enthusiasm y'all have for this fic! ❤</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You need to steal <em>this</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin’s phone was thrusted in Kate’s face.</p><p> </p><p>On the screen a photo of a wooden, black marked croquet mallet stared back at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Why that one?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Anthony’s lucky mallet,” Benedict explained. He leaned against the counter, he and Colin sharing identical grave expressions. “When he has the mallet, he wins. When he doesn’t, he loses. Simple as that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I see…” she hummed, taking a closer look at the photo. “Where is it at?”</p><p> </p><p>“Recreational shed.” Colin took his phone back, tapping away at the screen. “I sent you the photo for reference.”</p><p> </p><p>“The mallets are on the wall. But not the black mallet,” Benedict warned, hands steepled under his chin.</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because Anthony hides it,” Colin grumbled. “He hides it after each game. New spot. Always in the shed or around it. Never where the elements can harm it.”</p><p> </p><p>“He takes this seriously.”</p><p> </p><p>“More than seriously,” Colin corrected. “Croquet is life or death for Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>“I sort of caught that,” Kate muttered, recalling their confrontation in the den. She had an inkling Anthony was terribly competitive, his stubbornness and bickering with his family and herself was evidence enough, but the unwavering glint of determination in his eyes told her she’d just seen the surface of tendencies. “So what do I do with the mallet once I find it?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict and Colin shared an unsure glance; apparently neither thought this far. “Hide it,” Benedict declared. “But only where you can find it. And don’t tell anyone where you put it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not a soul,” Colin ordered.</p><p> </p><p>“Not even us,” Benedict added. “Anthony, while a colossal idiot, has enough blackmail material on all us to make even the strongest Bridgerton whither.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “I wouldn’t say your brother is ‘colossal idiot’…”</p><p> </p><p>“He is,” Colin insisted. “A man can be intelligent and an idiot. Especially Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know that,” she said with an eyeroll. “But…you don’t think he’d expect you two to do something like this? Hide his mallet?” Anthony knew his siblings well—perhaps better than anyone else in their individual lives. She wouldn’t put it past him to have foresight on his brothers’ antics.</p><p> </p><p>“That is why we are sending you to do the dirty work.” Colin tapped his temple, believing himself a genius on this idea. “Keep up, Kate. You hide the mallet, he goes nuts looking for it tomorrow, he’ll start interrogating us not even realizing we aren’t the culprits.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what do you think he’ll do once it dons on him it is<em> I</em> who hid the mallet?” she asked, the only person concerned with this possibility.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict shrugged. “Nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing?” Kate echoed.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe get red in the face,” Colin mused, taking a seat on the sofa. “Huff and puff a bit, but nothing else. He likes you too much to do anything cruel.”</p><p> </p><p>“Unlike us,” Benedict mumbled. “Last time I tried to nab his lucky mallet, he dyed all my whites <em>green</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why green?” She frowned, not understanding the upset; she had an affinity for green. Most of her wardrobe was various shades of green and jewel tones.</p><p> </p><p>“I hate green,” Benedict deadpanned. “I believe it is difficult color to work with outside of nature portraits.”</p><p> </p><p>“And it washes him out,” Colin chimed in cheekily. “Like I said—Anthony likes you too much to do anything cruel. You are our safe bet.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate believed it was wishful thinking on their part, believing she was their safe bet, but she wasn’t one to back away from a challenge. Even if said challenge meant potentially facing the wrath of Anthony Bridgerton.</p><p> </p><p>She could handle him. “Fine. Okay. Find the mallet. Put it into a new hiding spot. Don’t tell anyone. Then—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then it shall be <em>your</em> mallet for our croquet match on Saturday!” Colin whooped earning a broad grin of approval from Benedict. “The look on his face when he sees you with the mallet of death will be priceless!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony gob smacked and aggravated <em>did</em> sound like a hilarious sight.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay!” She relented. “I’ll go get the mallet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now! Go find it now!” Benedict urged, practically pushing her out the door. “More than likely Anthony is in his study doing work or hiding from the rest of us. This may be your only opportunity to snatch the damn mallet!”</p><p> </p><p>Before she knew it, she was outside his studio, Colin and Benedict waving farewell.</p><p> </p><p>“Godspeed, dear Kathrine!” Benedict called out.</p><p> </p><p>“You are our only hope,” Colin cried out, hand over his heart.</p><p> </p><p>The door slammed shut in her face.</p><p> </p><p>“Well then…” Shaking her head, Kate made haste for the recreational shed. She had a mallet to find before morning.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Double checking the phone number on her phone, Eloise punched in number into the study landline. The dial tone rang for a few moments before the distinctive click of the line sounded.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello?”</p><p> </p><p>She held her breath</p><p> </p><p>“Hello?” A heavy sighs sounded over the line. “I know this is <em>you</em>. I have the number saved after listening to dozens of voicemails.”</p><p> </p><p>She exhaled shakily. Eloise did not think he’d have enough sense to save the number, especially an unknown one, even if she did call from it several times during her drunken bender.</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise, if you are going to merely sit there and not say anything—”</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t you call back?” She asked instead. “If you had the number saved, why didn’t you call back? Hm?” Closing her eyes, she desperately wondered if she actually wanted to know the answer. “Because I’ve been sitting here for over a week wondering if you gave a damn about me.”</p><p> </p><p>His aggravated grunt did nothing to soothe her nerves. “Because…because I’ve been a bit preoccupied, Eloise!”</p><p> </p><p>“Right, right.” She rolled her eyes, lips pursing into a frown. “Preoccupied. With your other life you never cared to mention.”</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise…”</p><p> </p><p>“Because how dare I ask for your attention when I never even knew it was split in the first place—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you are still upset,” he interjected, “but don’t you dare start playing the woe-is-me card. I never split my time…when I was with you, I was solely focused on you. I can care for more than just one person at a time.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise snapped her mouth shut, lips chewed together and eyes pinched closed. She knew she made a low blow. To claim he had a double life and never cared for her. Because even as the words flew from her mouth she knew it wasn’t true. Phillip cared. He cared a lot. He just didn’t have the best way of showing it sometimes. He was a man better with his written words and small gestures rather than…rather than making some public declaration of love.</p><p> </p><p>She was silly to assume he’d do such an act, like…like chase after her. Searching for her. Not when he had children to worry about.</p><p> </p><p>God, she was the one acting like a child.</p><p> </p><p>Opening her eyes, she stared down at Anthony’s desk. Laptop closed, a couple of papers stacked, an otherwise tidy space. He never liked to have a messy workspace.</p><p> </p><p>The last time she sat at his desk…she must have been eight—<em>nine</em>? Right after a nightmare. Her mother had been too busy with a newborn Hyacinth to pay any mind to one of her middle children. Eloise didn’t blame her, not even at in youth. Her mother had been through enough heartache and tribulations in one year to last a lifetime. She didn’t need to worry herself with Eloise’s measly nightmares.</p><p> </p><p>But Anthony…</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was always there, arms open, and willing to let her cry on his shoulder. He’d let her climb on to his lap, allow her to watch as he worked or he’d read to her from one of father’s many books.</p><p> </p><p>He’d help her forget the nightmares and carry her back to bed like they never happened in the first place. A true protector.</p><p> </p><p>Who she cursed out. Who she shouted at. Who she hated and loved because he was her pigheaded brother who cared.</p><p> </p><p>God, she was really failing at communication, wasn’t she?</p><p> </p><p>“I met your brother,” Phillip said, breaking the silence. “And his girlfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise’s nose wrinkled, puzzled. “Edwina?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” he said, familiar with Edwina from Eloise’s pictures and ramblings, “a dark haired woman. With a dog.”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate!” She then frowned. “Of course Kate was there.” She tried not to sound to bitter; she liked Kate. She liked Kate from the moment she heard of her and knew instantly she’d be perfect for her eldest brother. She just didn’t like it when her brother roped her so easily into their affairs. Mostly because her involvement made it more difficult for Eloise to hate Anthony because Kate would probably find a way to justify his actions.</p><p> </p><p>Kate had a habit of that—defending Anthony when he wasn’t looking.</p><p> </p><p>Cute, but nauseating.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” Eloise finally asked; an image of Anthony tackling Phillip came to mind. Her brother trying to choke the life out of Phillip. “He didn’t do anything ridiculous did he?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. We just talked.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you say anything about us?” She knew her accusatory tone wasn’t necessary, but Eloise could not help but be defensive. The mode seemed to become her autopilot as of late.</p><p> </p><p>“No. Because you didn’t,” came his sharp reply. “I respect you Eloise. And the choices you make, even if I don’t agree with them all the time.”</p><p> </p><p>A tight swallow stretched down her throat. “I never said anything to them about us because my family cannot help but meddle. Bridgertons don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves and not dig into anyone else’s problems. I should know! I am prone to this as well!”</p><p> </p><p>“But he cares,” Phillip swiftly countered, “you brother cares about you and your wellbeing. Seeing him there only solidified everything you ever mentioned about your family…it made me wonder why you reacted the way you did because if anyone should have understood my situation and the obligations I have, it should have been <em>you</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hands coiled around the phone cord, gripping the rubbery plastic for dear life.</p><p> </p><p>“You lied to me,” she uttered, unable to find any other justification for her actions. “You lied to me, Phillip.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I lied,” she could feel his exasperation through the line, “we’ve established that! We established that weeks ago! But I lied because I wasn’t ready to introduce my niece and nephew to a young, bright woman I wasn’t too sure was going to be there for the long haul. I lied because I am not good at this parenting thing. In fact I think I am shit at it. I still wonder to this day why my brother had the bloody idea to even leave them to me! Like it is some sick joke!”</p><p> </p><p>His voice broke. He didn’t like speaking of his brother, the two incredibly close, never the mind George was ‘the favorite.’ She overheard the tail end of enough phone calls to know his parents favored his brother, always had.</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t fathom a parent favoring a child over the other. Her mother took great care to love each of them equally, and declare her love for them whenever the opportunity presented.</p><p> </p><p>“Phillip…”</p><p> </p><p>“I know I lied, but I wasn’t the one who ran away.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not fair.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s perfectly fair,” he said, tired, “because it’s what happened. It’s the truth.” He paused. “You ran, Eloise. Packed up and left. Didn’t tell me where you ran off to. Gone.” He cleared his throat, rattling away any lingering emotion. “How can I possibly chase after a woman who clearly did not want to be found?”</p><p> </p><p>“That is a…” Eloise exhaled, realizing she could not argue out of this one. “…a good question. One I do not have an answer to.”</p><p> </p><p>He hummed deeply, as though expecting this. “I miss you. I do,” he confessed. “But…but maybe we need this. The separation. We ran into this relationship so fast…”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise thought the contrary. Their relationship was years in the making. Ever since she emailed him about his research, wanting to include his work in one of her papers. A simple correspondence became so much more over time. A genuine friendship.</p><p> </p><p>To her, it only made sense their relationship rapidly progressed in the few months they’d been together. She’d grown so close to him in their emails and messaging, she felt like she’d known him her entire life.</p><p> </p><p>Though in retrospect maybe taking the leap to live together almost immediately after becoming official was bit much. Maybe neither were ready for that step despite Eloise pushing for it.</p><p> </p><p>“But I’ve hated this week.” Eloise knew she had to be honest. “I’ve been miserable, missing you. And you want to be separated longer, I—”</p><p> </p><p>“I think it’s best.” He didn’t sound like himself. Like he was forcing himself to say the words. “It’ll give us time to think.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want time to think! I want—”</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise, can you not argue and listen for once?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” she uttered, not wanting to have this conversation. “Whatever. I—I don’t care. I don’t want to feel like this anymore so…” She sniffed, hating how teary she was becoming. “So <em>bye</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>She slammed the phone back down on the receiver.</p><p> </p><p>Hands shaking, she scrubbed her face, a low groan escaping her.</p><p> </p><p>She hated this. She really hated this. Feeling helpless. Feeling like everything was her fault. Because maybe it was…and she knew it.</p><p> </p><p>If only she knew how to fix this.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Edwina was nerves, Anthony could tell that much.</p><p> </p><p>An aversion to eye contact. Arm tightly wound with his. Mouth pinched together.</p><p> </p><p>He’d never known her to be nervous, a gentle confidence to Edwina. That was one thing she and Kate had in common; their confidence, however Kate exuded the air of authority and commanded without even trying.</p><p> </p><p>It was one of the many qualities he admired in her.</p><p> </p><p>Not that he should have been thinking of Kate while he was with Edwina. Especially when he was attempting to break-up with the girl in the most civil and merciful way.</p><p> </p><p>“I never realized how expansive Aubrey Hall is,” Edwina remarked, the first since they began their walk. “Photos are not enough to capture the estate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” he muttered on reflex. He had not part of what made Aubrey Hall special. His family and ancestors made the estate the remarkable, he was merely the name who inherited the land. “I’m happy to know you are enjoying your time here.”</p><p> </p><p>They walked past the gardens, up towards the lake, a flashlight guiding them as well as the few light posts situated along the way. A few more paces up they’d reach the recreational shed, a bench out by the lake. A nice spot to have a quiet, if not uncomfortable conversation, and far enough where he knew no one in the house would venture at this hour.</p><p> </p><p>Edwina pulled away from him, arms crossing over her chest as a breeze came through. “Kate adores it here. She seems like herself.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s never not herself?” he joked, yet Edwina did not laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate worries. About everyone. About everything. She likes to keep busy and take care of family, friends, co-workers, her students…” She gave a sad smile. “I think she forgets about herself. About what she needs.” She shrugged. “Coming here is exactly what she needs.”</p><p> </p><p>“You truly love your sister,” he stated rather than asked. “I’ve always known it, but you really do.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s my best friend. She knows me better than I know myself.”</p><p> </p><p>“She has a knack for that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which is why when she told me if I like someone else, I shouldn’t be in a relationship with someone I don’t like, I knew I had to listen.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Oh</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t expect her to be the one to land the blow…but here they were.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony blinked down at her, her bright eyes nervous and apologetic. She turned to face him fully, she trying to stand taller than her petite height of five-foot-one. Trying to be strong.</p><p> </p><p>He’d let her have this, the break-up. Edwina need it for herself.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to break-up,” she said plainly. Her hands clasped together under her chin, doing her best to hide her pitiful wince. “You have been so kind. And so nice…but I never meant to date you as long as I did and…and maybe I was dating you because…because I wasn’t ready to admit something to myself.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nodded, keeping silent. He watched her carefully, hoping she was okay. That she wasn’t going to beat herself up over the break-up or her change of feelings. Edwina needed to be compassionate towards for herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Please don’t hate me,” she whispered out.</p><p> </p><p>His heart clenched at the plea.</p><p> </p><p>Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her and brought Edwina into a fierce hug. “How could I ever hate you?” he murmured into her light curls. “You have far more courage than anyone I ever met.” More courage than him, that’s for sure.</p><p> </p><p>A shaky sigh of relief came through her, Edwina slowly returning his hug. Chin pressed into his shoulder, she chuckled. “If it’s any consolation I don’t even think I like men, so…” She shrugged. “It was absolutely nothing you did or didn’t do.”</p><p> </p><p>Pulling away, Anthony rested his hands on her shoulders, giving a comforting squeeze. “You know what that actually explains…” He blew his eyes wide, earning another series of giggles from Edwina. “It explains <em>a lot</em>,” he stressed.</p><p> </p><p>Sure, there had been kisses and tender touches, but all so…<em>lack luster</em>. Not to mention it took several dates to even get close to an after-date kiss; Anthony had written off as Edwina being young, inexperienced, or traditional. He tried to sleep with her, on more than one occasion, but interruptions were always abound. Kate calling, Colin arriving unannounced, a family or work engagement he needed to handle.</p><p> </p><p>Now he was absurdly relieved he never made it far with Edwina. For both their sakes.</p><p> </p><p>“But I’m happy for you,” he said, catching her eye. “If you like who<em> I</em> <em>think</em> you like…”A blush bloomed across Edwina’s cheeks. “Then I am tremendously happy for you. And you should go tell her how you feel.”</p><p> </p><p>The girl stared up at him, bashful. “I…I doubt Josie feels the same—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you need to get your eyes checked,” Anthony declared, “because I think she does. Why else do you think I put you two in a room together?”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes widened. “What? Wait—” She held her hands up, stunned. “Were you going to break-up with me too?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sighed, giving a helpless shrug. “I am not what you want. I know that.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I am not what <em>you</em> want,” Edwina shot back. “You know how you told me I should tell the person I like how I feel? Maybe you should do the same.”</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed tightly. “It doesn’t matter what I want. What matters is everyone is happy.”</p><p> </p><p>She frowned, deeply concerned. “Anthony, why can’t you allow yourself to be happy?”</p><p> </p><p>The simple question hollowed his chest.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t have answer. He never had an answer. Not one he could find the words to say.</p><p> </p><p>Realizing he wasn’t going to say anything more, Edwina sighed. She wrapped him in another hug, before stepping away. “I’m going to go back to house. Maybe talk to Josie.” She began to walk away, only to turn back a second later. “I’ll stay for the remainder of the weekend.”</p><p> </p><p>“You have to,” he insisted, “it’s Bridgerton Family Field Day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly,” she nodded, “cannot disappoint the team. But…but I don’t think I should come back. At least not for a little while.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” Anthony understood. He doubted things would be awkward between himself and Edwina, but he understood the need to keep her distance, especially if anything were to amount between her and Josie. “I’ll let my family know after the games.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. For everything.” She gave him one final, grateful smile before hurrying back down the hill, a new urgency to her step.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony watched her go, feeling lighter.</p><p> </p><p>At least someone was getting their happy ending.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“If I were Anthony and I was hiding my lucky mallet…where would I hide it?” Kate muttered to herself upon entering the recreational shed. She scrambled for a bit, looking for a light switch or string, only to come to the conclusion there wouldn’t be an electrical all the way out by the lake.</p><p> </p><p>Realizing she had no other choice, she fished her phone out of her pocket, and shined the little light into the dark space.</p><p> </p><p>The recreational shed had walking room, giving the illusion of space, yet all the shelves were stuffed to the brim. Bins overflowed with old balls, tennis rackets, and a few bent field hockey sticks.</p><p> </p><p>Scanning the shelves, she kept her eyes peeled for anything looking remotely shaped like a croquet mallet. She already checked the wall, where the other mallets hung, coming up short. It was unlikely the black mallet would be with its brother and sisters, but it was worth a once over.</p><p> </p><p>“If I were Anthony—I’d think of where my siblings would look first,” she mused to herself, “and not hide the mallet there.”</p><p> </p><p>She bypassed the overflowing bins. Those would be the first place both Colin and Benedict would look, thinking their brother would want to bury the mallet from plain sight.</p><p> </p><p>But Kate believed Anthony more clever than that.</p><p> </p><p>“If I were Anthony…I’d make it difficult to grab…but in plain sight…because no one would think it would be <em>right</em> in front of them…”</p><p> </p><p>She paused staring at the backwall of shed. All the shelves had been given a good check, she pausing at even the slightest of glimpses, yet nothing. Giving careful consideration, Kate decided Anthony wouldn’t hide the mallet under the shelving units; the damn mallet wouldn’t fit.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes drifted to the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing.</p><p> </p><p>However…</p><p> </p><p>“…not right in front of them. But <em>behind</em> them!” She spun around, hurrying over to shed doors.</p><p> </p><p>Lifting up her phone, the light shined right above the doorframe.</p><p> </p><p>A black croquet mallet sat duct taped above the door, tucked right where the structural beam and doorframe met. Far too high for average eyelevel and obscured enough by shadows for anyone to notice.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Kate yelped, jumping in delight. “Now to get you down…”</p><p> </p><p>She scurried around the shed, looking for anything to give her an extra boost. Spotting a step ladder in the corner, she dragged it over to the door. Hurriedly she climbed up the steps. Once she reached the top, she sat her phone on the doorframe ledge, the light shining up for her to see the mallet.</p><p> </p><p>With one rough tug, the duct tape ripped off the wall. “Ha ha!” she cheered. “Lucky Mallet meet your new owner! Katherine is the name and I promise to treat you with kindness, unlike your previous owner.”</p><p> </p><p>One hand holding the mallet and the other tucking her phone back into her pocket, Kate carefully climbed back down, beyond pleased with herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Now to find a new hiding place…” Kate hummed once putting away the step ladder. She left the shed, latching the doors closed behind her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I want to break-up.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kate froze.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“You have been so kind.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Hugging the mallet to her chest, she peeked over the side of the rec shed, holding her breath.</p><p> </p><p>Down, less than ten feet away, stood Anthony and Edwina<em>. </em>Backs mostly turned to her, they were in a serious conversation.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“And so nice…but I never meant to date you as long as I did and…”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>One serious conversation Kate could hear clear as day due to the incredibly nice weather the countryside decided to bestow upon them for once in its goddamn existence.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“…and maybe I was dating you because…because I wasn’t ready to admit something to myself.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t want to listen to this. Listen to her sister potentially break Anthony’s heart or even listen in on a private matter.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily, she didn’t have to hear Anthony’s response. He spoke so quiet, his back completely to her, any words he may have spoken traveled in the opposite direction.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, Kate leaned back against the shed doors, away from their view.</p><p> </p><p>She could wait this out. Wait until they had their break-up, then walked back down to the house then sneak around the other way once they were gone. Hide the mallet. All would be okay.</p><p> </p><p>And she’d be able to act like she hadn’t heard part of their break-up. In fact, she could act none-the-wiser.</p><p> </p><p>Except this would never be the case because after what felt like an eternity footsteps began to edge closer to the shed.</p><p> </p><p>Kate revved into action. She tossed the mallet into nearby shrubbery by the lake, masked by leaves and the dark. Dusting herself off, she knew she didn’t have enough time to hid or run back down the hill, so she opened the shed doors trying to act natural.</p><p> </p><p>The footsteps came to a stop and Kate didn’t need to turn around to know who exactly was behind her.</p><p> </p><p>“How <em>much</em> of that did you hear?” Anthony’s measured, fury brimming voice sent a swoop through her gut.</p><p> </p><p>Oh god, this was not good. Not good at all.</p><p> </p><p>Biting her lips together, she turned to him, sheepish. “Just the beginning. Enough to know you and Eddie broke up,” she confessed, holding her hands up in surrender. “Nothing else. I promise.”</p><p> </p><p>His jaw and shoulders relaxed, a bit of relief in his eyes. “Oh…good. I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. Hugging her sweater closer to her body, she stepped closer to him. “Believe me. I am.”</p><p> </p><p>A empty chuckle broke through him. “I thought you hated Edwina and I together.”</p><p> </p><p>“I do,” she said, rolling her eyes. Of course he’d bring that up. “But that doesn’t mean I hate you. Or I hate her. I care about you.” She inhaled sharply, stuttering over her words, “I mean—both of you. I care about both of you. And break-ups hurt.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve experienced a lot of break-ups then?” he asked, a teasing glint flicking in his brown eyes. He knew her dating history, had been nosey and probing only after a few days of knowing her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate chewed her lips together, shaking her head. “Uh—no. No, I have not, actually. But I like to think I lived vicariously though enough rom-coms and novels to get the gist.”</p><p> </p><p>He snorted, nodding once. “Okay, Kate. Whatever you say.” His eyes then narrowed on her. “Why the hell are you even out here? At night?” His accusatory demeanor overshadowed the concern she heard in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Just…uh,” she glanced back to the open shed, spotting the croquet mallets on the wall, “just coming up here for some practice!”</p><p> </p><p>“Practice?” He raised his eyebrows. “At…” he checked his wristwatch, “at nine in the evening?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate nodded, ignoring the heat crawling up her neck. He was catching her in the lie and there was nothing else she could do but run with it. “Yup.”</p><p> </p><p>“When you cannot even see the field?”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p> </p><p>“No one does that.”</p><p> </p><p>“I do,” she claimed. “Because…I have never played croquet and I need to get some practice in before Field Day, am I not right?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony pursed his lips, mulling over her excuse and reasoning. She could not decipher if he was convinced or was merely humoring her. Kate didn’t like the idea of either.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright then,” He clapped his together, striding into the shed with bruising determination. “Let’s play then!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate barely caught the purple mallet he tossed her way. “<em>What</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“You want to learn how to play, then you shall learn from the best!” he called out, grabbing a couple of hoops from their hanging hook. “I’ll set up the field.”</p><p> </p><p>He started stabbing the hoops into the ground before Kate even agreed to a game. Huffing, she hurried after him. She once heard people acted either depressed or chaotic after a break-up, no matter how amicable—apparently Anthony fell into the chaotic category.</p><p> </p><p>Honestly, she should have expected this.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“She’s taking a long time.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin lulled his head to the side, looking over to his brother. Benedict sat rooted at his window, looking out in the direction of the recreational shed. They sent Kate out to find the black mallet over an hour ago, yet she had not returned.</p><p> </p><p>Not that they told her to return once she found the mallet, but both of them expected her to come back and recite the tale of how she discovered the black mallet’s hiding spot.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe she got tired and went to bed,” Colin suggested.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe she didn’t find it,” Benedict argued. “And we sent her on a wild goose chase.” He huffed, scratching at his chin. “Maybe Anthony doesn’t even have the mallet in the shed and hid it somewhere in the house.”</p><p> </p><p>“I doubt it,” Colin muttered, kicking his feet up on the sofa. “Anthony wouldn’t lug the black mallet all the way to the house. That’s too much work for him.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict seemed to consider the thought, turning away from the window. “You’re right,” he sighed. “Good call on having her look for it though. At least Anthony won’t try to kill us in our sleep over the mallet.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin chuckled. “Brother dear, Kate is our saving grace forever more regarding Anthony. We keep her around and our brother will no longer be a pain in our arses.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, he’ll still be a pain,” Benedict countered, “but a happier pain. Kind of like how you are with Pen.”</p><p> </p><p>His brother’s words were like cold water. Colin snapped up. “What are you talking about?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict shrugged, not at all bothered by his reaction. “Just…how you and Pen are besotted with each other. It’s adorable really.” He chuckled to himself. “I think you two are sweet together.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pen and I aren’t together,” Colin was quick to defend. “We’re just friends. Good friends.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict didn’t seem convinced. “Sure. Good friends. You keep telling yourself that.”</p><p> </p><p>“We are!” Colin huffed.</p><p> </p><p>“You two give googly eyes at each other. Those are normal ‘just friends’ things. Like…Anthony and Kate level friendship.” Benedict chortled at his own joke, standing up to come sit beside his brother. He pushed off Colin’s legs, making room for himself. “Colin, don’t be like our older brother and kid yourself. If you like Pen, tell her,” Benedict encouraged.</p><p> </p><p>Colin, however, was not jumping for joy at this advice.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t tell Pen I like her or anything of the sort,” he insisted, hugging one of Benedict’s many throw pillows to his chest. “I can’t be in a serious relationship right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” Benedict asked, clearly not seeing the problem.</p><p> </p><p>The glaring problem. A problem that kept Colin up at night and held him back from claiming any romantic feelings or notions between him and Penelope.</p><p> </p><p>“My work,” he answered. “This month is the longest I’ve been home since….” He frowned. “Well, since last July.”</p><p> </p><p>“That is…true,” Benedict, for once could not argue. “But maybe she can be a reason to stop by more. For <em>us</em> to see you more.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m at a place in my career where I don’t want to slow down.” Settling down had invaded his thoughts from time to time, only to grow restless than longer her considered the option.</p><p> </p><p>He was a traveler, in both body and spirit.</p><p> </p><p>Colin, for the life of him, could not picture himself stopping his travels. Not even for a woman he may love.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to travel for all my life. Write about the places I’ve been. I don’t think I can…I can let that part of me go.” He swallowed tightly, hugging the pillow closer. “I cannot ask someone I may care about to give up so much either. To be dedicated to someone they’ll only see once every three months, if that.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict hummed, genuinely listening.</p><p> </p><p>That was the nice thing about his second oldest brother, he <em>listened</em>. He didn’t scold (like Anthony), jump to conclusions (like Anthony) or cause Colin to question his choices (like Anthony). Benedict listened and gave thoughtful, considerate comments and advice. He never expected his siblings to follow through on his word, but he gave them some peace.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict was thoroughly easy to speak to than Anthony. But then again Anthony knew the true natura of Colin and Penelope’s relationship, while Benedict did not.</p><p> </p><p>His brother merely ran on observation and speculation on this matter. Thankfully so, because Colin wasn’t too sure if he could stomach both Anthony and Benedict’s disappointment. Because Benedict would be disappointed. The quiet,<em> oh</em> <em>so very quiet</em>, and frightening disappointment Colin had only ever seen directed at Anthony once in his life. And rightfully so.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you ever asked Penelope what she wants?”</p><p> </p><p>Colin looked up at Benedict, befuddled by the question.</p><p> </p><p>“I…what do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you ever asked her what she wants?” Benedict repeated. “Because…what if…what if Pen wants to travel with you—”</p><p> </p><p>Colin scoffed. “She wouldn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“But what if she does?” Benedict raised his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t know because you never asked her.” He leaned back against the sofa cushions, head falling back. “Colin, a relationship involves two people. Two people with wants, desires, fears…and you have to listen to the other person and ask these questions to know what you’d want together, as a pair.” He sighed, eyes clouding as he stared up at the ceiling. “And sometimes sacrifices are made for the comfort of your partner. Sometimes choices are made because it is what is best for both your futures. Sometimes when you are at a stalemate, <em>you</em> have to be the one to have courage and ask the hard and scary questions. You have to take the leap of faith or else…it dies. The relationship. And you can’t let it die.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin lifted his head, brows furrowed. “Are we still talking about me?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict’s eyes squeezed shut. “Colin, I’m going to tell you something and it doesn’t leave here.”</p><p> </p><p>Panic gripped his chest, but Colin sat up, ready to listen. “Okay…”</p><p> </p><p>“I am in a relationship,” he inhaled deeply, his body near quivering, “with a man.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin didn’t say anything, his brain stuttering to a stop.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” he finally uttered after a long lapse of silence. “Whatever happened to Genevieve?”</p><p> </p><p>“We broke up some time ago. There were a few women and men for a while…And then I met Ethan and…” He shrugged, a dreamy smile forming. “I’ve never been happier or more comfortable with myself.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t you invite him then?” Colin asked, giddy at thought of Benedict <em>in love</em>. He never imagined the thought but now…now he wanted to meet the poor bastard who got ol’ Benny in knots. “You should have invited him so we could all meet him!”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Benedict shook his head, horrified. “Absolutely not. You are the only other person besides Eloise and Kate who knows about him.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin sighed. “If…if it’s because you think the family won’t be happy for you…I think you’re wrong.” He nudged his brother. “I, for one, would be delighted to meet him. Whenever you’re ready.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Benedict mumbled, more demure than usual. “I do appreciate it.”</p><p> </p><p>Sitting beside his brother, Colin knew he had to find the nerve to speak with Penelope. To tell her his worries and concerns about being in a real, genuine relationship with her…but of course, that meant acknowledging feelings had developed, the one thing they promised each other wouldn’t happen.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Come on! A little lower!” Kate called out, one hand latched to Anthony’s while she tried to reach for the purple croquet ball.</p><p> </p><p>“Any lower and you will be in the lake,” Anthony snapped, mouth twisted. “Forgot it, Kate! It’s a lost cause.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will retrieve this ball,” she gritted, adjusting her footing on the tree stump embedded on the edge of the lake. Said purple ball sat atop a rock closer to the middle of the narrow lake rather than the edge. If she reached a bit further, her finger tips would be able to roll it closer and she’d be able to save it from full submersion.</p><p> </p><p>Their impromptu croquet practice spiraled into chaos less than twenty minutes in. Kate got a few good swings, Anthony providing some surprisingly helpful pointers along the way. He also fared well, not going full out, as he so claimed, but a leisure game.</p><p> </p><p>When things were going so well, the loose game took a turn for the worst. A strong gust of wind billowed through as Kate’s purple ball soared, the ball taking a dive into the lake.</p><p> </p><p>Kate had been trying to retrieve the ball with little luck.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve lost plenty of croquet balls before,” Anthony grumbled, “this one will not be missed.”</p><p> </p><p>Her finger tips brushed the ball. “I think I got—”</p><p> </p><p>Her foot keeping most of her balance slipped.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony yanked her back. Shoulder colliding into his chest, the two stumbled into each other, Anthony catching his footing before they both crashed to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>Once he righted her, his hands dropped away. “The ball stays in the lake.”</p><p> </p><p>“The ball stays in the lake,” she mumbled, not entirely please but knowing better than to argue. “I guess that means practice is over?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he rubbed his eyes, sighing. “I think you’ll be fine. You’ll soon realize no one plays fair and anything is game,” he told her, a tired smile on his lips. “You already play better than more of my siblings.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s the worst?”</p><p> </p><p>“Gregory,” Anthony said without hesitation. “But that might be due to the fact we’ve bullied him on the field all his life.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate scoffed though her chuckles, shoving his arm. “That’s mean! Poor Gregory!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, it’s all in good fun,” he waved her off, not bothered in the least. “He’s the baby. If it really bothered him, Mother would have said something by now.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate shook her head. “You Bridgertons and your teasing.” She walked ahead of him, picking up her forgotten mallet. Anthony joined her side, picking up his own discarded green mallet. Together they walked their short course, picking up the hoops. As he collected the last one, Kate found herself watching him carefully, looking for any sign of distraught. He hadn’t mentioned the break-up since he suggested a practice round, but that didn’t mean she didn’t worry. “Hey…how are you feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>He paused, staring down at the hoops in his hand. Anthony gave a small shrug, chewing on the inside of cheek. “You know…I liked Edwina enough. Kind, sweet, considerate. I never dated women like her before. Who cared about me.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate brows furrowed. “How can someone not care for you?”</p><p> </p><p>A hollow, low laugh slipped out of him. His eyes remained downcast. “You’d be surprised.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hands twisted on the mallet in hands. An urge to make him feel better—less sad—overwhelmed her. “I…I know you planned to propose to her. And to be perfectly honest, if she liked you and you did…I wouldn’t object.”</p><p> </p><p>His head snapped up. “What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“I would have,” she glanced up at the sky, stars visible in the clear sky, “dare I say, approved of you.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s mouth opened, no words forming before closing, confounded by her confession.</p><p> </p><p>“She wouldn’t be the first woman I nearly proposed to.” He licked his lips, a sigh sagging through his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“Not the first?” Kate asked, intrigued. “Who was the first?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nodded to the shed. “Let’s talk and walk.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He’d never spoken to anyone about Siena.</p><p> </p><p>Only those who’d known him at the time and were involved knew about the situation. An agreement was made without any prompting amongst his family; no one would bring up Siena, no one would bring up Anthony’s near colossal mistake, no one would dwell on the ‘what if’.</p><p> </p><p>But Anthony had never felt more relief than when he spoke to Kate about what transpired three years prior.</p><p> </p><p>“I almost gave up everything for her.” He inhaled shakily, keeping his feet moving. Kate kept pace beside him, the two walking towards the garden. “My work. My family. My life. I was going to throw it all away to follow her around the world. Follow her where she wanted to go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Siena…the cellist, right?” Kate’s quiet question startled him.</p><p> </p><p>His feet stuttered, but he caught himself. He felt Kate’s hand brush against his.</p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t going to grasp him. So he reached for her, clasping their hands together.</p><p> </p><p>Neither acknowledged the touch.</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” he confirmed. “She was going on an international tour with an orchestra. She was going to be gone for well over a year.” She was a workaholic, like him, prided herself on her music and her dedication to her craft. Worked her whole life to earn a chair; she wasn’t going to give up her dream job and opportunity for anything. “We never really dated per say, the relationship more sexual than anything. But she was the only one I was with at the time and I didn’t try to date anyone…so feelings happened.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s thumb brushed over his knuckles, a reminder she was there.</p><p> </p><p>They’d wander to the opening of the garden, no speed or urgency to their pace.</p><p> </p><p>“She gave me ultimatums, made me feel guilty for things I shouldn’t have felt guilty for. She didn’t like how much time I spent with my family or how I was always checking in. Thought I never gave her enough time. She never cared for my interests or my work.”</p><p> </p><p>Hand in hand, he and Kate walked through the overarching cherry blossoms, the pink petals dull in the neon moonlight.</p><p> </p><p>“But I tried to give her everything. All the time.” He remembered the dates he planned. How she’d skip out on them, claiming it was too much. He recalled the simple outings, like walks around town or the occasional movie, how she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but beside him. The only time she wanted to be with him was for sex and even then, towards the end, he began to wonder. “Yet I was infatuated with her to the point I was reckless. Incredibly reckless.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate pulled him to the left of the path, taking the lead in their walk. “Reckless how?”</p><p> </p><p>“I told her I’d give up everything and follow her. That I wanted to be with her. I wanted to marry her,” he said, jaw tightening. Looking back, he felt like such an idiot. A fool to think he’d be willing to let go the only life he ever knew for a woman he’d never satisfy. “I gave a two week notice at work, passing off my duties to Benedict. I had a tenant interested in my flat. I was booking plane tickets. I was going to give up <em>everything</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“What stopped you?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked down at her, surprised to find Kate listening attentively, hanging on to his every word. And the fact they were no longer walking, but standing beside a bench in the garden.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sat down, Kate sitting beside him, stilling holding his hand. She had not let go; not once.</p><p> </p><p>“Daphne and Simon got engaged,” he answered.</p><p> </p><p>No one knew this part. The reason he cancelled his flights. Rescinded his two weeks’ notice less than a day later. Or picked up his recently packed up belongings from his storage unit. They all assumed he came to his senses or Siena broke things off. It was both, but more than just the typical heartache.</p><p> </p><p>“I got a text. From Mother. From my siblings. From Simon.” He felt a prickle behind his eyes, yet he tried to banish the urge away. “Daphne proposed to him.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate gasping laughter brought a light he didn’t know he needed. “She did?” He nodded. “Very fitting of her.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is…” Anthony agreed, chuckling a bit as well. “And…and selfishly all I could think when I heard the news was ‘who’s going to walk my sister down the aisle if I’m not there?’” Taking a shaky breath, he ventured to look at Kate.</p><p> </p><p>Her warm, considerate brown eyes met his. No judgement, no mocking mirth.</p><p> </p><p>Only understanding.</p><p> </p><p>“Then I thought about all of them,” he admitted. “My brothers. My sisters. My mother. Who was going to call Eloise to make sure she did her laundry? Or check in on Colin when he is gallivanting across the world and forgets to make his usual phone call? Or check in Gregory and Hyacinth at school? Or go with Mother to all her functions and have brunch with her every Sunday?” He stopped, eyes screwing shut. “I’d miss them. All of them.”</p><p> </p><p>As much as he hated the pressure and the need to always be there for all of them, no matter what, he wouldn’t want it any other way. They were his family. And Siena never understood that integral part of him. He didn’t even understand how much his siblings meant to him until he was about to leave them all.</p><p> </p><p>“So you two broke it off,” Kate surmised.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Anthony said, throat feeling thick. “It was mutual for the most part. She told me she didn’t expect me to follow through anyways. And she didn’t want to be anyone’s wife.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate winced. “Ouch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Anthony scoffed through his tears, hastily wiping away the drops with the back of his free hand. “That’s Siena for you. Bitingly honest.”</p><p> </p><p>“She…did a number on you,” Kate said, still processing his story. “I kind of want to find this woman and give her a piece of my mind for what she did to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t all her fault,” Anthony was quick to defend, nevermind how he felt about Siena in retrospect. “I wasn’t in a good place then either. I wanted an escape. Daphne and I weren’t talking because of Simon. Then Simon wasn’t talking to me because of Daphne. Us Bridgertons were at odds with each other all the time, more so than now. And… and I wanted to run away.”</p><p> </p><p>“And Siena was an opportunity to run away,” Kate guessed right on the nose.</p><p> </p><p>“She was.”</p><p> </p><p>He felt Kate’s fingers wiggle between his, she intertwining their hand. “I’m sorry she hurt you. I’m sorry you felt you had to escape.” A small smile twinge at the corner of her lips. “However, as selfish as it may sound, I’m glad things didn’t work out between you two. Because then…” Her hand suddenly felt clammy in his, as though she were overcome with nerves, yet he didn’t pull away. “Because then I would have never met you.”</p><p> </p><p>How could simple, earnest words knock the air out of his lungs.</p><p> </p><p>“And despite being one of the most insufferable men I have ever met,” she said with a teasing grin, “you are also one of best,” she confessed. “Please remember that. What happened today with Edwina and back then with Siena only shows you are a caring man.”</p><p> </p><p>He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her and never let go. Keep her by his side forever and a day; to listen to her laugh, witness her smiles, and hold her hand. He could see himself in love, <em>happy</em> with her—</p><p> </p><p>Then he could see his death.</p><p> </p><p>All thoughts of a future with her were banished. He couldn’t let himself entertain the thought.</p><p> </p><p>But that did not mean he could not enjoy the now.</p><p> </p><p>Releasing her hand, he turned to flowers beside them. He plucked an orange tulip from the bunch.</p><p> </p><p>“For you.” Anthony held the flower out to her.</p><p> </p><p>Dumbfounded, Kate stared down at the tulip.</p><p> </p><p>“Won’t your mother notice it’s gone?” she asked, eyes darting between him and other tulips in the garden.</p><p> </p><p>“She might. Or might not. Might think Hyacinth is going through her flower crown stage again.”</p><p> </p><p>He held the tulip out to her, waiting.</p><p> </p><p>After what seemed like a century, her shaky hand accepted the tulip. “What’s this for?” She sniffed the bud, her shy smile on her lips.</p><p> </p><p>“My dearest friend deserves to be given flowers, no matter the reason.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes soften. “Anthony, I’m your dearest friend?”</p><p> </p><p>“The best I ever had,” he said truthfully. He paused, giving her a serious, warning look. “Don’t tell Simon.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate smothered a cackle, her face scrunching in utter delight. “I won’t breathe a word. You’re secret is safe with me.” She glanced around, the garden a longing shadowing her. “It’s a pity I’m going to leave before your mother can give me a proper tour of the gardens.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony frowned. “What do you mean leave? Why would you leave?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyes darted down to her tulip, she twisting the stem in her hand. “Because you and Edwina broke up. And I was invited because I’m her sister. That why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Did I not say you were my ‘dearest friend’? Just then, right now?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate huffed, rolling her eyes. “Yes but—”</p><p> </p><p>“I want you to stay, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>She looked ready to argue, so Anthony beat her to it.</p><p> </p><p>“I want you to stay as my friend. As my guest. No other reason other than I want you around.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t expect her eyes to water. Nor did he expect her to throw her arms around him, bring him into a fumbling hug.</p><p> </p><p>His arms hung in the air for a moment stunned, before wrapping around her, holding her just as fervent.  </p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t too sure how long he held her—nose pressed into her curls, her body pressed against his, an overwhelming sense of <em>home</em> filling him from the inside out—but Anthony knew he want this to last.</p><p> </p><p>To last for however long it can.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>YES, READER, I CRIED WRITING THIS CHAPTER. A LOT.</p><p>The break-up finally happened *insert 'How I Met Your Mother' Champagne "They Broke Up" GIF here*</p><p>We got an Eloise POV. WITH PHILLIP. AND MORE DETAILS ON THAT TRAINWRECK OF THE MOMENT.</p><p>We finally know what happened with Siena! Been keeping that in my back-pocket for WEEKS. </p><p>Before y'all ask--I never said Benedict's boyfriend was Henry (if I did in a comment...whoops ekkk, I take that back). HOWEVER...the name 'Ethan' means WISDOM. Do you know what name ALSO means wisdom? SOPHIE 😉</p><p>BTW--Orange Tulips are usually given to share one's appreciation and understanding of their beloved, and often symbolize a spiritual connection to someone. AM I SAYING KATE AND ANTHONY ARE SPIRITUALLY CONNECTED? Mayhaps....👀</p><p>Let me know what you think! :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Bridgerton Family Field Day ~ Day 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WE HAVE MADE IT TO THE BEGINNING OF FAMILY FIELD DAY. YAY!</p><p>WARNING: There is mention of injury and vomit in this chapter, however it is towards the end.</p><p>Also...I am NOT a sports or athletic person. The sport I know the best here is football (aka soccer). I am still learning croquet so...yeah.</p><p>Slowly responding to comments! Will probably get to all of them by this weekend :)</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! I know there are probably some here and there, so forgive me.</p><p>Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I took the liberty of making everyone team t-shirts!”</p><p> </p><p>God, it was too early for this. Anthony barely served himself coffee when Colin came barreling into the rather busy sunroom holding an overflowing box of red and blue t-shirts.</p><p> </p><p>Honestly, he didn’t expect the house to wake up before nine—on most days he’d be lucky to see half the house awake before noon—yet when he came down half past six, he was stunned to see a breakfast bar set out in the sunroom and a quarter of the house milling about.</p><p> </p><p>His mother beamed at him from her chair in the corner of the room. Picking up his coffee and a croissant from the tray, he made his way over to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Sit down,” she ordered, “enjoy the morning.” She motioned to the misty outdoors on the other side of the pristine glass windows.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hummed, slouching in the chair beside her. He was exhausted, getting little sleep the night before, though he wasn’t in a terrible mood.</p><p> </p><p>How could he be in a terrible mood when all he could think about was Kate’s smile as he bid her goodnight. Or when he called her his dearest friend. Or when she twirled the tulip in hand like it was her most treasured possession.</p><p> </p><p>“I like seeing them like this,” Mother whispered to him conspiratorially. She motioned to the growing commotion before them. “Working together. Being excited about this. There is a new life here.”</p><p> </p><p>His mother was not wrong. An energy vibrated through the sunroom, the Bridgertons buzzing about contrary to the early hour. Hyacinth remained planted by the breakfast bar, filling her plate as she listened to Gregory ramble. The boy kept on snatching food from her plate, eating almost all her blueberries. Eloise sat with Penelope and Francesca at one of the few tables in the room, devouring a pile of French toast like her life depended on it. Meanwhile Colin flittered about room, handing out blue and red t-shirts to his siblings and guests, a skip to his step.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony took a bite of his croissant, chewing slowly. “You didn’t make all this, did you?” He nodded to the breakfast bar; the set up looked far too put together to be his mother’s handywork.</p><p> </p><p>Mother chortled. “No, no, no. I called in Maggie for the weekend. She was excited to hear we were bringing back Field Day and jumped at the opportunity to make a big breakfast spread.” She shook her head, taking a sip of her tea. “I could never make something like this.”</p><p> </p><p>As if to further prove her point, Maggie came bustling in with more pastries—fritters, tarts, and scones.</p><p> </p><p>Colin dropped the t-shirts in his arms at the sight of scones. “Maggie, you divine angle!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony rolled his eyes. “He has no self-control.”</p><p> </p><p>“But isn’t that part of his charm?” Mother teased. “Like <em>someone</em> else I know.”</p><p> </p><p>His croissant poised in front of his mouth, Anthony paused. “Like who?”</p><p> </p><p>“Like you,” her pleasant smile snapped into a frown. “You didn’t believe I’d forget what I witnessed yesterday?” Her jaw tightened, disappointment shining her eyes; Anthony had been on the opposite end of this stare more times than he cared to admit. “You and Kate. In your bedroom.” She shook her head; no longer upset, but accepting. “I am willing to give the benefit of the doubt.”</p><p> </p><p>“You should,” Anthony replied, hoping he didn’t sound too harsh. “Nothing happened. She wasn’t well the night before and needed someone to watch over her. I was that someone.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet softened, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “That is kind of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like to think so.” Anthony took a small sip of his coffee, hampering down his growing flush. “We were…playing around,” he felt juvenile using the term, but there was no other way to describe what had transpired between him and Kate that morning. “Stupid really. Nothing happened.” He sighed, setting down his cup. “Besides, Edwina and I broke up.”</p><p> </p><p>A gasp escaped his mother, her tea spilling. She hastily set down her cup and saucer, grabbing a lingering napkin to dap at her mess on her lap. “What do you mean you’ve broken up?” she asked, keeping her voice low.</p><p> </p><p>“I meant what I said,” Anthony muttered, eyeing the rest of the room warily. No one was near them, too busy with breakfast and team t-shirts. “We broke up. Last night. It was mutual. Civil. Nice?” He was still surprised their break-up went as smooth as it did. Then again, Edwina was star-eyed for Josie and he…well, his thoughts were always on Kate.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Mother murmured, picking back up her tea, “what brought this on? If I may ask, that is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Edwina likes someone else,” Anthony answered honestly. “And it’d be wrong to stay together.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm,” his mother hummed, intrigued. “And…you were fine with this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because Edwina deserves to be happy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony glanced at his mother, confused by her short responses. “What other reason would there be, Mother?”</p><p> </p><p>She was quick to shrug off the matter. “No reason. No other reason at all—”</p><p> </p><p>“Heads up!” A red t-shirt went sailing their way.</p><p> </p><p>The bunched t-shirt landed at Anthony’s feet. He picked up the shirt, though not without sending an aggravated scowl Colin’s way. “Was throwing the shirt really necessary?”</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely!” Colin called back. “Got things to do! Lists to finish! Walking you over your shirt is not time I am willing to waste.” His brother resumed his rounds, passing off a t-shirt to Edwina as she entered the sunroom, Josie right behind her.</p><p> </p><p>The girls were holding hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh I see.” Mother’s eyebrows shot up, sharing a knowing glance with him. “Then good on you. For noticing. And understanding.” She seemed almost proud of him. “Not many men would show your level of compassion.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s just who I am,” Anthony’s lips twisted down, raising an eyebrow, “‘<em>compassionate’</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled, shaking her head. “You know what I mean.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose I do.” He did. While he wasn’t necessarily the most compassionate creature in the world, he tried his best to be understanding, especially to those who were kind to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Newton!” Kate’s familiar yelp cried out from the doorway. “Come along, boy,” she ordered, dragging along the corgi by the leash.</p><p> </p><p>He listened to her orders, waddling beside her like the good pet he could be.</p><p> </p><p>Yet when his bright, exuberant puppy eyes met Anthony’s, all was lost.</p><p> </p><p>Newton tugged on the leash, trying to run to Anthony. “Newton,” Kate huffed, realizing she faced a losing battle. Bypassing the breakfast bar, she brought Newton over to him, exasperated. “I believe he wants to see you,” she said in leu of greeting.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony grinned up at her. “Seems like he know who his true master is.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are <em>not</em> his master,” she bit back, holding the leash out to him.</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless he accepted the leather strap, slipping it through his arm, before giving Newton a well deserved pat. “I don’t really think that is up for you to decide.” He scratched the underside of Newton’s chin, the dog preening at the attention. “Isn’t that right, Newton? It’s not for her to decide.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate rolled her eyes. “Traitor,” she muttered to Newton. Her gaze leapt back to Anthony, a shy smile forming. “Uh—do you want to tell me why there was a bouquet of tulips in my room this morning?” she asked quietly, though it was obvious Violet trying to act like she wasn’t listening. His mother had ears sharper than hawk; Kate dropping her voice to a whisper would do nothing to conceal her question.</p><p> </p><p>“Why should there be a reason?” he shot back, combating Newton’s licks and nudges. “I wanted to give you tulips.”</p><p> </p><p>She opened her mouth ready to argue otherwise.</p><p> </p><p>Then snapped her mouth back shut. “Okay. Thank you.” She tucked a stray loose curl behind her ear, before scratching her temple, a bit bewildered. “They are lovely.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like I said, my dearest friend deserves flowers.”</p><p> </p><p>Another good-natured eyeroll was sent his way. “Whatever you say. Can you watch Newton while I grab some food?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, Newton already laying down by his feet.</p><p> </p><p>Kate turned to his mother, alert. “Would you like anything, Violet?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m good, dear,” she waved her off. “Go eat.”</p><p> </p><p>Giving one more glance around, Kate left for the breakfast bar. She was almost immediately bombarded by Gregory and Hyacinth, the two roping her into whatever argument they were having at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony chuckled, eyes solely on Kate as she tried to navigate his youngest siblings’ conversation. She nodded along, the picture perfect mediator, listening keenly. Eyes bright, he could feel her earnest intent from across the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Be careful, one might say you are smitten.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony turned back to his mother, mouth in a firm line. “It’s not like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“You and Edwina are no longer together,” she reminded him, a light hand resting on his forearm. “And you and Kate…” She sighed—happy, relieved, teasing. “I cannot remember the last time you played with a dog until she came along.”</p><p> </p><p>His lips twitched. Anthony patted Newton, the dog’s tongue lulling out at the touch. “I like dogs.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you do,” Mother assured him, “but you are missing the point. On purpose.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I don’t want to talk about the point you are making,” he told her, leaning back in his chair. “I am content in my relationship with Kate, Mother.”</p><p> </p><p>She did not seem convinced, but did not press further as Benedict came ambling towards them. He wore his team’s t-shirt, a deep blue with a little print of <em>BFFD</em> printed on the right breast. Upon reaching their mother, he kissed her cheek and pulled a chair to on her other side.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you excited for the games, Mama, Brother?” he asked the two, far too cheeky to be normal conversation. He was there to dig under Anthony’s skin, starting with their mother.</p><p> </p><p>“Beyond excited!” Violet cheered, a life surging into her at the sight of her second son. “I cannot wait to see you dominate the field.”</p><p> </p><p>Amongst the Bridgerton’s it was no secret Benedict was the favorite. His mother would claim this was not the case—she loved each of her children dearly, it was simply the case she had time to love other’s, like Benedict, longer than her younger children.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony knew better than to accept the statement for face value. Because perhaps his mother <em>did</em> believe she loved all her children equally, yet her actions spoke otherwise.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict was the one she called when she had great news to share. The one she took on her shopping trips. The one she went above and beyond for birthday and Christmas, the gifts thoughtful and intimate in the sense she genuinely knew her son.</p><p> </p><p>Unlike Anthony who’d receive the same sweater year after year. For the last fifteen years.</p><p> </p><p>Violet adored her second son. This was merely a fact Anthony accepted long ago. For a time this never bothered him because he knew he was his <em>father’s</em> favorite. He was the one his father would take on the random trip; he was the one his father actively sought time after. They’d bond over sports, Edmund volunteering as Anthony’s youth football coach for years and taking him to games, just the two of them. Didn’t matter how many children joined their brood, Edmund always found time for Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>Then he died.</p><p> </p><p>“Here is the schedule!” Daphne stopped beside them, passing out the itinerary. She too was dressed for the games, her light hair pulled into a high ponytail and her usual classy flats traded for running shoes. “We have our first game, tug-of-war at ten. Also, Anthony, you’re printer is out of ink.”</p><p> </p><p>“You used my printer?” He dropped the itinerary on his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“Yours is the only good printer in the house,” Daphne explained, unbothered, “and we had a lot of papers to print.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed. “But that doesn’t mean—”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony, why haven’t you put on your team shirt!” Colin cried out. “I did not have these rush ordered for you to not wear it!”</p><p> </p><p>At least half the house was dressed in their t-shirts, a sea of blue and red in the sunroom.</p><p> </p><p>“I will!” he shot back. “We still have time!”</p><p> </p><p>“And you are also out of paper,” Daphne added, clutching the stack of papers to her chest. “But I already put in a new order for you. Should be delivered sometime Monday.”</p><p> </p><p>“How kind of you,” he deadpanned. Huffing, he scanned the schedule. Tug-of-war, sack-race, football, a relay… “Why is croquet last?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because it shall be the deciding factor for Field Day festivities,” Daphne glanced over the stack herself, nose scrunching. “Plus there is also the fact we don’t have enough croquet mallets for everyone on each team. You’ll send your best players and the rest will watch. Simple as that.”</p><p> </p><p>His family had lost, destroyed, and drowned plenty of croquet sets in the past. Every few years a new set needed to be purchased; the only mallet standing time after time was <em>his</em> lucky mallet. The mallet of death.</p><p> </p><p>One he’d need to retrieve. Soon. But when he was alone; he didn’t need someone like Kate to discover the mallet and it’s significance.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” he muttered. Picking up what was left of his coffee and stood from his chair. “I best get ready then since everyone is so eager.” Tucking his team shirt under his arm, he urged Newton along—he needed to get out of the sunroom.</p><p> </p><p>As much as he loved his family, they were beginning to swarm around him and Mother. He was going to spend the entire day with them, he at least needed a moment to breath. To be by himself. He’d need it for the day ahead of him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Bridgerton Family Field Day was one of Violet Bridgerton’s favorite (and most dreaded) occasions of her family’s formative years. This was mostly due to her brood being far too much like their father—<em>competitive to a fault</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund was a wonderful man; sweet, attentive, charming.</p><p> </p><p>Yet when faced with a dose of healthy competition…</p><p> </p><p>Her dear husband often provoked matters beyond necessity.</p><p> </p><p>(<em>Broken arms, bloody noses, twisted ankles. Permanent grass stains on the most bizarre locations.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p><em>Yelling. Hoarse, scratchy yelling across the field between the elder Bridgertons. Children chasing after each other in the same spirit of their parents</em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Laughter.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Joyous, rambunctious, carefree laughter from both old and young.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>Edmund’s deep and relentless chuckles, he unable to control himself once he started</em>. <em>He</em> <em>tossing a young Anthony in the air like the boy was his grand prize</em>.)</p><p> </p><p>Her children’s best and worst qualities came to light in the aggression and ambition of field day. She’d seen it in the few who could participate in the original field day games—Anthony, Benedict, Colin, and Daphne.</p><p> </p><p>She distinctly recalled a teenage Anthony tackling one of his cousins after a botched relay-race. Edmund had to yank him off the poor sod before any true harm could be done. But Anthony’s fuming face had a been imprinted in her memory, Violet reminded her son had a heated temperament.</p><p> </p><p>“Put your back into it, ladies!” Penelope screeched to the red team at the top of her lungs. The tiny statured woman commanded the team with finesse Violet had never seen before; fierce, her voice a demanding powerhouse, and face flushing in sheer determination. Quite the opposite of the quite, shy girl she’d known from infancy.</p><p> </p><p>Wisely, Anthony stepped back and let Penelope take control of the tug-of-war dynamics. Violet had to suppress a chuckle at the sight of Anthony placed all the way at the end of the line, right behind Francesca. His frown and low brows told her he wasn’t happy in the slightest with his team. Daphne ran late to the first game with the excuses of needing to use the restroom, throwing off their strategizing time.</p><p> </p><p>On the opposite end of the rope, the blue team—Benedict, Colin, Simon, Gregory, Eloise and Kate—were in the lead. Eloise was up front, face to face with a stony Penelope.</p><p> </p><p>Neither girl softened at the sight of the other.</p><p> </p><p>Friendship was nonexistent in light of battle.</p><p> </p><p>“Pull harder, El!” Benedict called out from the back, he and Simon anchoring the back of the rope.</p><p> </p><p>“I am pulling as hard as I fucking can,” Eloise screeched, gritting her teeth together. “Why don’t you fucking anchor better? How about that!”</p><p> </p><p>From the red team’s side a few feet skidded across the grass. Yet they stopped before the flag could completely give to the blue team.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I said put your damn back into it</em>!” Penelope roared, frightening poor Edwina.</p><p> </p><p>The girl yelped, head ducking. Her eyes squeezed tight and pulled, feet inching backwards.</p><p> </p><p>A concerned squeak sounded beside Violet. “Are they always like this?” Josie asked, watching the game with horrified fascination.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh this is nothing,” Violet chuckled, adjusting her hat. The morning sun broke through the clouds, shining down on the field like a beacon from the heavens.</p><p> </p><p>She liked to think it was Edmund smiling down at them. He’d relish at the cursing and jabbing, egging both teams on as they struggled to overpower the other.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait until the football game,” Violet warned the girl. “No mercy with this lot.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>NEVER SURRENDER</em>!” Penelope cried out like a battle cry.</p><p> </p><p>Together, in one great singular move, the red team pulled with all their might.</p><p> </p><p>Yet the blue team did not budge, their feet planted on the ground and faces purpling from the sheer amount of exertion they put forth.</p><p> </p><p>Momentum worked against the red team, Daphne’s grip and feet slipping out from under her from the bounce-back of their unified tug.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily she didn’t fall too hard, landing on her bottom and partially on Francesca’s foot.</p><p> </p><p>“Daff!” Simon called out, frantic. He nearly let go of the rope.</p><p> </p><p>“No fraternizing with the enemy!” Colin snapped. “She’ll live!”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s on the ground!” When no one paid mind to his indignation, Simon stepped away from rope. He held hands up, mouth in a grave line.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict gaped at the man like he was going to rip his poor brother-in-law’s head off. “What are you <em>doing</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Helping my wife.” Simon marched past his teammates to Daphne. He crouched beside her, offering his hand. “You alright, my love?”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne smiled at her husband, taking his hand. “Now that you’re here never better.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet’s heart could burst at the sight of the two.</p><p> </p><p>Her sons (and Eloise) on the other hand—</p><p> </p><p>“Disgusting!” Colin cried out, gagging.</p><p> </p><p>“Get off our side, Simon!” Anthony snapped. “If Daphne was really hurt, I would have done something by now!”</p><p> </p><p>“Romance has no place in field day,” Eloise shrilled, still keeping her team’s side of the rope at bay. “Get your asses out of here!”</p><p> </p><p>“Gladly!” Simon pulled Daphne back to her feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Traitor!” Eloise cried out. “Simon is a trait—<em>shit</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>The red team used the blue teams momentary distraction to try their unified tug again, this time with far more success.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise plunged forward, Kate falling after her, followed by Gregory.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yes</em>!” Anthony whooped. His head snapped to Violet and Josie. “Someone mark this down as a victory for my team,” he demanded over the cheers of Penelope and Hyacinth. The two girls roped Francesca in a crushing hug, enjoying their small but first victory.</p><p> </p><p>Violet sighed, producing her dry erase marker from her pocket. Turning to the score board, she added a tally to his side. “The Red Team is in the lead—”</p><p> </p><p>“I demand a rematch!” Benedict tossed down the rope. “Best two out of three!”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Anthony squawked back, stepping up towards his brother. “We won—fair and square!”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict scoffed. “Like you didn’t convince Daphne to slip! You are a known cheater Anthony!”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Enough</em>!” she ordered.</p><p> </p><p>All arguments ceases, all eyes and attention on Violet. She cleared her throat, head held high.</p><p> </p><p>“The point goes to the Red Team. They won. Fairly,” she added, narrowing in on Benedict. “I know field day causes tensions to rise, but please keep a good spirit.”</p><p> </p><p>Bashful and repenting murmurs sounded from the teams. At the very least Eloise, Kate, and Gregory were no longer on the ground, helped up by members of both teams.</p><p> </p><p>However her eldest sons were another story—neither Benedict nor Anthony were apologizing or relaxing at her urging. Both their faces remained stoic, eyes set for the kill. The same look she’d seen Edmund and Billie, his older sister, share when they were at war during their own field days.</p><p> </p><p>Lord, help her. It was going to be a <em>long</em> day.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Penelope agreed to help organize Bridgerton Family Field Day, she done so for Colin. To see his charming, nice smile.</p><p> </p><p>(Everything about Colin was nice. From his smile, to his eyes, to his humor, to simply <em>seeing</em> her. He’d always <em>seen</em> her, unlike her peers or family. He knew she was there for the beginning and never let her forget she existed when he was around.)</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, no one ever told her how fun and intoxicating the competition could be!</p><p> </p><p>The Featheringtons were never a family to participate in games or activities together beyond the obligator dinners and parties Portia decided to throw. A field day would never, in a million years, happen for the Featherington family. Not even at the suggestion of one of her elder sisters. Her mother would fuss over the mess and dirt and the sweat. She’d have <em>conniption</em> at the idea of sweating in anything she owned!</p><p> </p><p>But the Bridgertons?</p><p> </p><p>The Bridgertons did not care about messes or being silly with their family. They never had. The wonderful family only cared to have fun and bond with one another. A series of games simply amped up their energy, their playful and ruthless demeanors coming to full fruition.</p><p> </p><p>With ease Penelope allowed herself to be carried away with their spirit. She yelled. She commanded. She gave each event all she had.</p><p> </p><p>Because how could she not? Colin’s infectious smile from the other side of the field only fueled her ambitions to try her best, to not be afraid to stand out for a fleeting moment. She was safe, surrounded with Bridgertons, a family closer to her than her own.</p><p> </p><p>“Pen!” Anthony called out. “We’re up!”</p><p> </p><p>Nodding to him, she went up to Hyacinth’s discarded burlap sack and stepped into to it. The sack race was taking longer than perhaps anyone anticipated. Only six sacks were hidden away in the recreational shed; however there were well over six individuals participating in the games.</p><p> </p><p>The solution to this tiny problem? Play the game in rounds. Two against two and tally up the winning numbers.</p><p> </p><p>Edwina and Francesca had been up against Simon and Eloise, both members of the blue team surpassing the two. An unfair set up, in Penelope’s opinion, but one Benedict insisted. Anthony didn’t argue, perhaps knowing how to pick his battles. For once.</p><p> </p><p>The second round was Hyacinth and Daphne competing against Benedict and Gregory. The youngest Bridgerton boy slipped before even leaving his post, Hyacinth sailing by. Daphne and Benedict came into a close tie, Violet pressed to give each a point.</p><p> </p><p>This left Penelope herself in the final set, along with Anthony, Kate, and Colin.</p><p> </p><p>She expected to be up against Kate, except—</p><p> </p><p>“You really think you can out run me?” Anthony spat, standing toe to toe with Kate. “I am faster than you. If it weren’t for me, who’d know where Newton would be? Roaming the streets of town!” The corgi in question yelped at the sound of his name, yet remained planted beside Josie. The girl had snuck him treat after treat, the dog favoring her the most as of late.</p><p> </p><p>The far-too-clever and stubborn Kate was having none of it. “This is not running. This is a sack race. This is fast momentum jumping. Can you jump forward, Anthony? Without looking like a fool?”</p><p> </p><p>His face soured. “I can. And I will. Don’t underestimate me, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“I cannot tell if they are serious or if this is their way of flirting?” Colin muttered to her, watching his brother and Kate interact in utter fascination.</p><p> </p><p>“I think you are overestimating yourself. Did you not see Gregory? Or how about Benedict? That one was a close call—”</p><p> </p><p>“I am not my brothers.” Anthony’s stiffened at the comparison, arms remaining firmly crossed as he stared down at her. “Besides, Gregory doesn’t count.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” came the boy’s indignant cry. “I’m right here.”</p><p> </p><p>Everyone ignored him.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on you two,” Colin groaned out, “we haven’t got all day and we still have the relay and football match. Let’s get to it!”</p><p> </p><p>Scowling at one another, Kate and Anthony returned to their posts. Both stepped into their sacks, eyes darting to each other, a silent challenge exchanged. Colin glanced back down at Penelope, rolling his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Children. They are true children.”</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled behind her hand. “Stop it. They might hear you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony and Kate paying attention to someone else? You are too kind. And optimistic.” Penelope felt her chest would burst when he smiled down at her. Did not matter how long or how well she knew this man, his smile was sorcery at it’s finest on her.</p><p> </p><p>“On your marks,” Violet began, voice echoing down the field, “get set—<em>GO</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>In a snap, the four of them surged forward, eyes on the finish line.</p><p> </p><p>Colin took his time, no urgency in his movements. Penelope kept a steady pace, she and her friend falling in line with each other.</p><p> </p><p>Then there was Anthony and Kate—</p><p> </p><p>“Are you trying to trip me!”</p><p> </p><p>“You are in <em>my</em> path!”</p><p> </p><p>“Your path? There is no path!”</p><p> </p><p>Without mercy, Anthony shoved Kate by the arm. She wobbled on her feet, nearly tipping over, but caught herself. Furious she hopped forward, until she rammed full force into Anthony’s side.</p><p> </p><p>Both toppled to the ground in a heap. Anthony tried to roll away from Kate, yet she had him pinned face down against the ground, using half her body to weigh down his back.</p><p> </p><p>Colin chortled at the sight.</p><p> </p><p>“Get off me!” Anthony wiggled under her, finally turning over and wrapping Kate in his arms, trapping her from running away.</p><p> </p><p>“Go, Colin! Go!” Kate cried out in melodramatic desperation. “You can do it! Win this for the team!”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope expected Colin to take advantage of his brother’s hindrance, to go leaping full speed ahead to the finish line.</p><p> </p><p>Except he didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>He stopped all together.</p><p> </p><p>Then he smiled at her. His nice, full-hearted smile <em>for</em> her.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you take this one, Pen?” He winked at her. “I’ll pretend to trip or—”</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck are you doing!” Eloise shouted from the other side of the finish line. She waved wildly at her brother, her teammates joining in the hoopla. “Hop your ass over here, Colin!”</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise!” Violet scolded, undoubtedly fed up with her daughter’s cursing. “Watch your language!”</p><p> </p><p>The girl rolled her eyes, huffing. Eloise hadn’t been in a pleasant mood for days, perhaps not since she arrived at Penelope’s door in middle of the night, claiming she made a terrible mistake.</p><p> </p><p>A family field day wouldn’t help lift up her spirit, not when her usual can-do, gumptious spirit was <em>broken</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Broken enough to mutter cruel words when she thought no one was listening.</p><p> </p><p>“Oi! My stomach!” Colin crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach. “It must have been all the biscuits! Ugh!”</p><p> </p><p>Laying on his side, he winked at her. A sneaky grin played on his lips, Penelope resisting the urge to kiss it right off!</p><p> </p><p>Filled with newfound energy, Pen leapt along, all the way past the finish line. The rambunctious cheers of her team encompassed her, yet all she could do was look back, longing to be held by her sweet friend.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Do you think they got lost?” Edwina asked, watching the garden entrance like a hawk. “You’re mother does have a large garden.”</p><p> </p><p>Standing a few feet away from her, Gregory gave a dejected scoff. “Daphne and Simon? ‘Accidently’ lost?” He shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “They’re making out in there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Edwina squeaked. “But we’re in the middle of a game!”</p><p> </p><p>“All the more thrilling for them,” he reasoned, rather matter-of-factly, “the fear of getting caught and all. They’re into that stuff.” He sounded beyond disgusted.</p><p> </p><p>“You know this how?”</p><p> </p><p>“Caught them once on a nature trail about here.” He shuddered. “Scares a boy for life.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gross,” she muttered. “Romantic. Ish. But gross. Especially since she’s your sister.”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly.” Gregory’s nose wrinkled. “Who knows when they’ll come out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s idea was it to let them run against each other?” Edwina knew Colin had created the line-up and designated who’d be competing head to head, but she would have thought him to be smarter than to leave a pair of newlyweds alone in a garden.</p><p> </p><p>“Coin toss,” Gregory muttered. “I asked the same thing too during lunch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Coin toss?” Edwina’s brows shot up. “Who was the other pair for the garden portion?”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate and Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina had to refrain an eyeroll. “Of course. Who else would it be.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does it make you upset?” Gregory asked, genuinely curious. “Them…with how they…well, <em>are</em>?”</p><p> </p><p><em>Oh</em>—how did she respond to that question. She and Anthony agreed to keep their break-up to themselves until the end of the weekend. Yet here was Gregory wondering if she was bothered by Anthony and Kate’s apparent…</p><p> </p><p>Well, she wasn’t too sure what the boy had been alluding towards.</p><p> </p><p>“Their closeness?” she tried. “I always believed Anthony and Kate would get along. They’ve very similar.” The moment Anthony tried to roundaboutly speak of philosophy, Edwina was instantly reminded her sister. How he spoke so highly of his siblings, the way he fretted over every little thing yet acted like he gave not care, and found the damnedest circumstances humorous—she knew he was a perfect fit, if not life long friend for her dear sister.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean…” He looked uncomfortable, as though afraid to break unfortunate news. “How they click. Always spend time together. All the touching. My family pushing them together when you are here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Gregory…” The boy was too sweet; far too sweet to be concerned with her and her wellbeing, when he hardly even knew her! “Can I let you in on something?”</p><p> </p><p>He perked. “Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony and I broke up,” she told him, shock marring his still-boyish face. “Last night. No hard feelings or tears were exchanged, I assure you. A mutual break.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s…that’s good!” He tried to sound pleased, but his confusion won out. “I think?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, it is,” Edwina assured him. “I never liked Anthony romantically, and I believe he felt the same regarding me. Besides, I am realizing now he is not really my type.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s strange,” Gregory began, “because he planned—”</p><p> </p><p>Feet thundered in the garden. Within seconds, Simon dashed through the entrance, a huffing and puffing Daphne a few paces behind.</p><p> </p><p>“Here!” He thrusted the blue baton into his arms. “Go! Go! Go!” He thumped on the boy’s chest and shoulder’s, Gregory springing into action.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne stumbled to a stop in front of Edwina, holding out a red baton. “Go!”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina hesitated, concerned by the way the woman was holding her abdomen. “Are you ok—”</p><p> </p><p>“I said <em>go</em>!” Daphne roared, pushed Edwina along. “I’m fine!”</p><p> </p><p>Taking her orders at face value, Edwina ran off towards the pool—just as Gregory dived in.</p><p> </p><p>Damn.</p><p> </p><p>Charging forward, Edwina launcher herself into the water. Bobbing along, she swam ahead, soon matching pace with Gregory.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on!” She heard Kate call out to the boy, clapping her hands in encouragement. “Faster Gregory! Faster—you can do it, kiddo!”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s a human, not a dog Kate!” Anthony huffed from beside her, hand out and ready for Edwina to pass him the baton. He turned back to Edwina. “Come on! You can out swim him!”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina sped up her stroke, but it was too late—Gregory passed the blue baton to Kate. She stuck her tongue out at Anthony before running away to finish the relay. By the time Edwina reached the edge of the pool, Anthony snatched the baton without another word and sprinted after her.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, Edwina pushed back and floated in the water.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?” Gregory asked, swimming towards the steps of the pool. “We have to catch up with the others to see the results.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just taking a moment,” she answered, eyes closed as the sun beat down lightly upon them. “Sometimes you just need to take a moment and relax. You should try it.”</p><p> </p><p>Hesitation radiated off of Gregory.</p><p> </p><p>Based on their few interactions, he seemed like a boy who’d often been pushed to follow the pack, his family, in whichever direction they decided to pull. He listened attentively and adored his sisters, she knew that much by simply observing the family dynamics, but sweet near-the-end-of-Bridgerton-line Gregory occasionally got lost in the crowd. She felt for him.</p><p> </p><p>A wave rippled through the water.</p><p> </p><p>Peeking an eye open, Edwina found Gregory slowly floating beside her. “Huh, this is nice.”</p><p> </p><p>Together they floated for a few minutes, not worrying about anything else but enjoying the water and the sun.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As a child, Eloise was never allowed to participate in family field days. Her father and mother were concerned she’d be too little, easily lost in the ruckus. After all, she’d been six and Daphne had not been allowed to participate until she was seven. Even then her sister could not join all the games. Aunt Billie’s side of the family was beyond ruthless; their parent were only watching out for their wellbeing.</p><p> </p><p>But this did not mean Eloise was not bothered or annoyed by sitting on the sidelines.</p><p> </p><p>Field Day 2.0, as she liked to call it, marked a fresh start. For all of them. Bridgertons too young to remember the festivities could join and those who did remember could usher in a new era and spirit to the long shelved family event.</p><p> </p><p>About time. Honestly.</p><p> </p><p>Despite being in the trenches of her own tumultuous love life (if it could be called so frivolous) Eloise remained keen of the ‘winds of change’ at Aubrey Hall—also known as her older siblings growing up and pairing off seemingly all in one go.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne and Simon were married, almost two years now, and would probably have their own children soon—Daphne always wanted to be a mother. Her life would be incomplete if she were not.</p><p> </p><p>Colin and Pen were slowly edging towards romantic territory, if their flirty chats and little moments of hide away were anything to go by.</p><p> </p><p>While a wiggle of neglect resided within her at the thought of Colin and Pen, Eloise rather preferred the two together than apart. She knew of the longing glances and unrequited crushes on both sides. She wanted her best friend and older brother to be happy, even if she felt left behind and excluded in the process.</p><p> </p><p>Then there was her favorite brother—Benedict. He was nearly as back as the rest of them! He just hid his emotions better than anyone else, a true performer. She desperately wanted him to introduce Ethan (sweet, far too kind, and amazing texting-buddy Ethan!) to the rest of the family.</p><p> </p><p>Yet she withheld her nudges and urgings—coercing her brother to reveal his serious relationship would only prove her to be a bigger hypocrite than she initially believed.</p><p> </p><p>If Benedict did bring Ethan along, well he’d be amongst the worst of love idiots in the family!</p><p> </p><p>However the title—of love idiots—the official title in her mind belonged to her pigheaded eldest brother and his ‘not girlfriend’ Kate.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony falling in love—head over heels, stupid love—was the most monumental ‘winds of change’ to occur in Aubrey Hall’s ancient corridors.  To be frank, Eloise had been unable to imagine Anthony falling in love, in a relationship, seriously considering marriage.</p><p> </p><p>Sure, she knew he got around and had his fun…but he was still <em>Anthony</em>. Freaked out by bees, sending too many messages in the family email chain, and far too concerned with his siblings life to be deemed healthy. He was the grumpy, prematurely graying, father figure of the Bridgerton family and he simply would remain such no matter the circumstances of the world.</p><p> </p><p>She wouldn’t have been surprised if he died a bachelor.</p><p> </p><p>Then the glorious Kate came along.</p><p> </p><p>The very same Kate who’d elbowed Anthony on their makeshift football field and kicked the ball out from between his feet.</p><p> </p><p>“That is an illegal move!” Anthony spat, watching as Kate struggled to keep the ball rolling. She wasn’t lying when said she wasn’t the most athletic; her technique was all over the place and at the end of most games she was gasping for air and chugging water. But the woman was determined—determined to see Anthony lose. No one had been ballsey enough to go toe to toe with Anthony in the past, Kate the first.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise could only applaud the woman’s efforts.</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s not!” Colin shot back at his goalie post. “Keep going, Kate!”</p><p> </p><p>“When can I go in?” Eloise muttered to Benedict, the only two sitting out for the blue team. “This is pathetic to watch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Soon,” he assured her, eyes on the field. Kate finally passed the ball to Simon—a player who actually knew what he was doing. “Remember, you’re our secret weapon. Not everyone played football throughout all their school years.”</p><p> </p><p>She preened at the compliment.</p><p> </p><p>On the opposite end of the field, where Pen and Daphne sat watching the game, Eloise ventured a small wave to the two.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne waved back, though a looking a little green.</p><p> </p><p>Penelope on the other hand ignored the gesture.</p><p> </p><p><em>Fuck</em>. Either her best friend was too invested in the competition or…or she was still annoyed with what she said at breakfast.</p><p> </p><p>(“<em>You don’t get it because you’ve always pinned after the same man all your life. You never took a chance and fucked it up</em>.”</p><p>“<em>I’ve taken more chances than you could even fathom, Eloise</em>. <em>The difference is</em> <em>mine don’t blow up in my face</em>.”</p><p> </p><p><em>She left before Eloise could even think to utter an apology</em>.)</p><p> </p><p>Eloise would put her money on the latter.</p><p> </p><p>“Tap out Kate,” Benedict finally ordered. “We’re hitting the hour mark and we are still one to one. And she looks like she’s about to pass out.”</p><p> </p><p>As if to further prove his point, Kate plopped herself down on the ground in the middle of the field.</p><p> </p><p>“Really, Katherine?” Anthony called out almost mockingly. Yet the concern threaded in his voice was not lost on anyone. Nor the fact he was jogging over in her direction.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t stop beside her. But he was close. Close enough to talk to her without shouting.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise shook her head. Her brother was an absolute goner for this woman.</p><p> </p><p>Taking Benedict’s word, she ran out to Kate and held her hand out. “You’re on bench.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate took her offered hand, standing up. “Thank god.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks for wearing him out,” Eloise muttered before Kate could hurry on her way. “We might actually win this one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Happy to help,” she replied slyly. She made her way to Benedict and sat down on their little bench. A children’s play bench they had stashed away in the shed, but no one minded.  </p><p> </p><p>Out on the field, Eloise sprang into action. She easily maneuvered around Hyacinth, her youngest sister ready to play dirty with kicks and elbows, and made eye contact with Simon.</p><p> </p><p>A few passes and kick, the football soared past Francesca into the goal.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s curse echoed across the field.</p><p> </p><p>He run towards Francesca, the two engaging a quick, hushed conversation full of huffs and eyerolls before the girl came running out into the field. Anthony, on the other hand, remained at the net.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise clucked her tongue.</p><p> </p><p>This…was not good.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony had been goalie for several teams back in his youth and was even goalie for a community team back in town. He’d been kind putting Francesca as his team’s goalie, perhaps wanting to level out the playing field. But all niceties were thrown out the window once Eloise joined the game.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn it,” Simon muttered, well aware of his childhood best friend’s skill set. “No way in hell are we going to get anything past him.”</p><p> </p><p>“I might have an idea,” Eloise assured him as they set up to continue the game. “Trust me.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony chucked the ball back into the field and Eloise dashed after it, Hyacinth neck and neck with her. Her sister was fast, but Eloise was faster. She reached the ball, kicking it over to Simon, knowing he was following her lead. Back and forth, they kept the ball going between them, inching closer and closer to the goal.</p><p> </p><p>Francesca had already given up, knowing better than to interfere with Eloise. Hyacinth had abandoned the idea of going offence on her, her focus on Simon.</p><p> </p><p>Before she knew it Eloise found herself in a perfect opening to make a goal.</p><p> </p><p>And while Anthony knew her skills well, she knew his too. He couldn’t do a high jump as well as he used to, at least not well enough to effectively block a bloody lethal shot. Some time ago he confessed he needed a good, proper warm up to play as well as he used to, and while field day was ridiculously active, it wasn’t necessarily a ‘proper warm up’—she wouldn’t have been surprised if he already pulled a muscle and was trying his best to hide it.</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, Anthony would not expect her to make a high kick. She wasn’t great at those, more of an aggressive defense than anything. He’d expect her to aim low.</p><p> </p><p>She knew she had no choice put to push herself and take a chance.</p><p> </p><p>With all her might, she kicked the ball, aiming her best towards the top of net.</p><p> </p><p>Breath held, the ball soared.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony leapt.</p><p> </p><p>The ball collided with the side of his head, a sickening smack echoing across the field.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Shit</em>,” the words flew out her mouth as Anthony dropped to the ground, groaning.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing happen for a solid second.</p><p> </p><p>Then—</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony!” Mother ran full speed ahead to her eldest son, frantic. “Anthony!”</p><p> </p><p>Simon was quick to follow, reaching Anthony sooner than Mother, the one player closest to him on the field.</p><p> </p><p>“Mate,” he crouched down beside him, hand resting on his shoulder, “are you okay? Answer me.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate ran past Eloise, all her exhaustion nonexistent in the wake of his injury. “Is he awake? Did he black out?” She stopped beside Simon, eyes scanning Anthony. “Do you feel like throwing up?”</p><p> </p><p>“I…<em>fine</em>,” Anthony mumbled out, waving at the three to back away. He still laid on the grass, eyes screwed shut. “Fine. I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise inched closer, hands pressed to her flushing face. She didn’t want to injure the idiot! She just wanted to win, damn it!</p><p> </p><p>Putting on a brave face, Anthony eased himself up to a sitting position. “Seriously. I’m—<em>shit</em>. Shit, no.” He shook his head, eyes snapping shut again. “I feel, I feel like—” He shot up in a flash, stumbling away from the group.</p><p> </p><p>Mother winced. “Anthony—"</p><p> </p><p>Turned away from the family, he vomited.</p><p> </p><p>Stunned, no one ventured to him. Anthony…didn’t get hurt. Or injured. Or sick. He just didn’t. If he did, only Benedict, Colin, or Simon had been witness, and more often than not it was a case of a hangover than anything.</p><p> </p><p>Kate, however, did not stay put. She made her way over to him, shouting orders. “Someone get a car or call a hospital—”</p><p> </p><p>“No doctor,” he called out, back still turned to them. “No doctor.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony hates doctors and hospitals,” Mother murmured, obviously distraught.</p><p> </p><p>Beside him, facing the family, Kate huffed. “Fine! Then Edwina call Mary. Ask for her opinion!” She rested a gentle hand on Anthony’s back. He didn’t turn to her, rooted in place, hands braced on his knees. “My mother is a nurse. She’ll be able to give us a second opinion. Okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” came his hushed argument.</p><p> </p><p>“You may have a concussion. You are <em>not</em> fine.” Kate turned back to the rest of them. “Can someone help me lead him back down to the house?”</p><p> </p><p>Simon offered without a word, coming up to Anthony’s other side. Together, they began to lead him away from the field and back to the house. Edwina followed a few paces behind, her cell phone pressed to her ear, Mother walking beside her.</p><p> </p><p>“Well…it’s not a real Bridgerton Family Field Day until someone gets hurt,” Colin announced, an awkward chuckle trailing at the end.</p><p> </p><p>The glares sent his way silenced him.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s clean up,” Benedict announced, the rest of family following his orders. A rare occurrence, but without Anthony around…who else would they turn to? “Games are over for the day. If Anthony is feeling well…we’ll pick back up tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>Murmurs of agreement sounded throughout the family, her siblings beginning to clean up and gather their belongings.</p><p> </p><p>Yet Eloise remained frozen in her spot, staring at where Anthony crumbled to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>A shoulder bumped into hers. Francesca’s grim yet knowing frown sent an roll of regret into her gut.</p><p> </p><p>“Who knew you had a killer shot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up, Francesca.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AHH ANTHONY! YOU HAVEN'T EVEN PLAY PALL MALL YET!</p><p>Seriously though, concussions are a serious thing and are not humorous. </p><p>For reference... right now family field days events span three chapters 👀 this is just the first one.</p><p>WE GOT SO MANY FUN POVS AND WE SHALL HAVE MORE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! WHOOO.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Bedside Manners</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another chapter! YAY!</p><p>I know I have lagged on comments, but I hope to reply to some soon! I love reading them and your thoughts/responses to this fic are often the highlight to my day! :) So please know I appreciate and adore each one and want to respond!</p><p>Warning: Implied Recreational Drug use (it's Benedict, again). </p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“My mother says she cannot come until after her shift,” Edwina explained to the nervous group gathered outside of Anthony’s room—all the siblings and Violet except for Daphne and Simon, who’d taken over helping him get settled in his room. “Which is a night shift,” she winced out, ducking away from the Bridgerton’s panicked and imploring gazes. “But she gave a list of things to check and symptoms to watch out for,” she continued holding her head up high in the face of the family’s disgruntle, “and she advised since he has not seen a healthcare professional that he stay awake, or try to stay awake until she can check-up on him.”</p><p> </p><p>“We have to stay up with him?” Colin asked, seeming small at the question. “It’s that bad?”</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t know how bad it is,” Kate was quick to jump in, resting a reassuring hand on her sister’s shoulder. She was doing great, better than Kate expected when it came hashing out the unfortunate news. “That is why we have to make sure he stays awake in the event he does have some acute brain damage beyond a headache, so he doesn’t fall into a coma—”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god,” Eloise wheezed out, hands flying up to her face, “I could have potentially put Anthony in <em>a coma</em>?”  </p><p> </p><p>“He’s <em>not</em> in a coma,” Kate told her, dispelling the fire before it could get out of hand. “He probably won’t be and is probably not even close to a coma territory. But it is still precaution. We are operating on precaution right now.”</p><p> </p><p>Some of the siblings relaxed, yet a few remained tense. Like Hyacinth, the poor girl’s lip worried over and over since they’d all trekked back to the house.</p><p> </p><p>“So we should make a schedule?” Benedict suggested. “Take turns watching him, switch out every couple of hours?”</p><p> </p><p>Murmurs of agreement sounded across the group.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll write one up,” Colin volunteered, hurrying off before anyone could argue otherwise.</p><p> </p><p>Penelope glanced the way he left, pity shinning in her eyes. “I’ll go with him…make sure he...” She shrugged. “Doesn’t make the schedule too stressful,” she settled on, taking her leave.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise looked after the two, but remained rooted in place. “So what do we do now? Wait? Wait for our schedule? Then what?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think…” Violet’s voice broke through for the first time since the incident. “We should all head downstairs for dinner. One I can assure Maggie has prepared and take a moment to breathe. Anthony is going to be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>By the dejected, near identical stubborn frowns of her children, none of them believed her. Not even Benedict.</p><p> </p><p>“He is!” Kate added. “He really is. We should all go down to eat.”</p><p> </p><p>That seemed to persuade the group, the Bridgertons dispelling from the corridor.</p><p> </p><p>Edwina turned to Kate, a strained smile on her lips. “I’m going to head down too. Call Mary if anything comes up, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Kate nodded once. “I have faith he’s fine, just a little exhausted and discombobulated. Maybe dehydrated. He hasn’t vomited since that one time.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina winced at the thought, but took her word. Saying her own goodbyes, she followed after the rest of the Bridgertons.</p><p> </p><p>The once full corridor became empty, a silent void.</p><p> </p><p>Only Kate and Violet remained standing before Anthony’s door, neither making a move to enter.</p><p> </p><p>“You handled them well.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s head snapped to Violet, eyes wide. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Them,” she nodded towards the stairs, “my children. You handled them well. They can be…” she trailed off, a bemused smile flicking on her lips, “…they can be a handful. Even in adulthood. I never know how to…how to handle them, their attitudes and emotions, I…I sort of let Anthony handle that,” she confessed. Her eyes remained downcast, her hands fiddling with her wedding band and engagement rings.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s heart went heavy at the sight.</p><p> </p><p>Mary no longer wore her rings on her fingers, choosing to have them on a chain as a necklace. She claimed it was more so for her profession rather than because she simply could not handle the weight of loss on her fingers, but Kate knew better.</p><p> </p><p>“You can go downstairs to eat,” Kate suggested, sensing perhaps Violet didn’t want to be alone. “Daphne and Simon are with him, and I’ll be too—”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I want to see Anthony. See how he is doing.” She stepped up to door giving a sharp knock, before entering. Kate followed after, shutting the door behind her.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting up right on his bed, Anthony didn’t look too out of it. Just tired and a little worse for wear, however this could have more than likely been due to the fact he’d been running around all day, playing game after game with nonstop energy.</p><p> </p><p>He perked at the sight of her. Then his eyes slid over to his mother.</p><p> </p><p>A part of him shut down—the brief light in his eyes vanished and the slight smirk forming locked down into a frown.</p><p> </p><p>Kate had known, by simply observing, Anthony was closed off from his mother. It didn’t take a genius to see how he carried himself and spoke a tad differently, more authoritative and indifferent, around her; how his stress seeped through the cracks of this persona. As though he were constantly on edge, trying to prove himself as an adequate son, or rather person.</p><p> </p><p>She had just never seen the transformation in snap—so obvious, so clear as day.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne sighed, apparently catching this change as well.</p><p> </p><p>“Mother,” he greeted, “I didn’t expect you to see me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why wouldn’t I?” she countered swiftly, taking a seat in a nearby armchair. The one that had been piled high with clothes a couple of days previous, finally taken care of. “Your my son, you are hurt. I want to see how you are feeling.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked away from her to Daphne and Simon; pleading or seeking comfort, Kate could not tell. The couple had taken to making themselves comfortable on the foot of his bed, Daphne adjusting and readjusting the throw blanket she laid across her brother.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m feeling fine, Mother” he finally answered. His gaze went back to Kate, exasperated. “Stop standing by the door like a moron. Sit down.”</p><p> </p><p>She refrained any eyeroll—she was in the presence of his mother and sister in his room; this felt far too private of a family affair—yet the snickering she heard from Daphne told her she was in good company.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t call your friend a ‘moron,’” Daphne scolded, attempting to lighten the mood, “we like Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>Taking the invitation, she down on the opposite side of the bed beside Anthony, the only open spot on the bed. She tried to hamper down her flush, the incident the morning prior flooding back into her mind.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t look at Anthony, instead at the rest of the room. She spotted his glasses on his dresser, making note to remind him to take off his contacts—he’d probably feel better without the strain.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure you are feeling well?” Violet asked again a bit more adamant. “I know you don’t like the doctor, but I’d feel more at ease if you went to see someone instead o waiting—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” he repeated—the phase he uttered more times than Kate could count since his injury. “I’m perfectly fine. You don’t need to be concerned about me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I need to be. I am your mother.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony tensed, a hand clenching into his sheets.</p><p> </p><p>Not knowing her place in this increasingly awkward situation or what to do, Kate did what she felt was right—</p><p> </p><p>She took his hand in hers.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t relax, but gripped her hand fiercely. No intention of letting go.</p><p> </p><p>“Mama,” Daphne turned to Violet, “it’s been a long day. I am sure we are all exhausted and should eat.” She turned to Kate and Anthony, cheerful with a hint conspiracy in her eyes. “I’ll have someone bring up food for you two. Let’s go.” She ushered Simon along, before turning to her mother. “Come on, Mama. Anthony needs his rest.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet seemed reluctant, but stood from her chair. “Alright. I’ll be back up later to check in on you,” she told Anthony, leaving little room for argument. “In the meantime, rest,” she ordered.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be fine,” he said instead; not exactly an agreement nor a phrase of comfort. “You can go.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get you if anything happens,” Kate added, hoping to quell the mother’s nerves. “Promise.”</p><p> </p><p>This seemed to settle the silent debate. Violet left the room with little goodbyes, Simon quick to follow, exchanging wide and concerned eyes with Daphne.</p><p> </p><p>The eldest Bridgerton daughter did not look too bothered, only exasperated. “Sit tight. Food will be here soon,” she told Anthony and Kate. “And don’t worry about Mama—”</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t,” Anthony answered before Daphne could finish.</p><p> </p><p>She sighed, the will argue with her brother not present. “I’ll see you soon then.” With that, she left the bedroom, leaving the door open a crack behind her.</p><p> </p><p>As her footsteps faded down the corridor, Anthony slumped back against his pillows. His hand in hers went laxed, until he slipped away altogether. His now free hands scrubbed at his face, a groan rumbling out through him.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop looking at me like that,” he grumbled.</p><p> </p><p>Kate sat back, confused by the accusation. “Like what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Like I am broken and need to be babysat.”</p><p> </p><p>“But…” She winced, hating how the next words were going to come out. “You might have a concussion and need to be babysat until a medical professional sees you.”</p><p> </p><p>Eyes squeezed shut, he shook his head once. Only once, as his hand pressed to his right temple. The side where the ball collided. “When you say it like that, it makes the situation sound far worse than it is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony,” Kate shifted to face him, “I hate to break it to you, but the situation isn’t great. It isn’t bad. But it isn’t great. It’s…a situation,” she put lamely. “And it’s best to let those around you, maybe…take care of your for once.”</p><p> </p><p>His frown deepened, he recoiling away from her. “I don’t need to be taken care of—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you do.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I don’t,” he shot back.</p><p> </p><p>Kate wasn’t going to sit all evening arguing with his royal stubbornness. She shuffled off the bed, Anthony staring after her in befuddlement. “If you are so well, then I’ll leave.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean leave?”</p><p> </p><p>She stepped back from the bed, giving a shrug. “Leave—as you said, you are well enough to be left alone.” Kate turned away, fully prepared to walk out the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine!” he called after her. “Maybe I…do need help. And to be…” He swallowed tightly, pained by uttering these very words, “taken care of.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Her eyebrows jumped. “Can you say that again? Slower and louder—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be like that,” Anthony huffed, a bemused smile forming. “Acting like a know-it-all. It’s annoying in this state.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you <em>are</em> in a state,” she asked, stepping further into the room. “Glad to know we have come to this conclusion.”</p><p> </p><p>He rolled his eyes. “I don’t like being fussed over,” he said stubbornly. “It’s unnecessary and…I cannot remember the last time someone fluffed my pillow the way Daphne did just then,” he mumbled furiously. A deep flush rose up his neck, up to his face. “I don’t like it.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate hummed, heading over to his dresser. She picked up his glasses. “I get it. I do. Being fussed over is not fun. Especially when you are the one who usually does the fussing.”</p><p> </p><p>He grunted in agreement, watching her keenly from across the room. “Speaking from experience?”</p><p> </p><p>Pursing her lips, Kate debated on telling him. She never mentioned her injury nor the accident, embarrassed by the event even though her therapist and Mary often told her there was nothing to be ashamed about.</p><p> </p><p>But Anthony opened up to her about his fear of bees. His heartbreak with Siena.</p><p> </p><p>She could open up about a little accident. “I broke my leg when I was seventeen. A car accident during a thunder storm.”</p><p> </p><p>He winced, concern shining through his eyes. “That’s a double whammy for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah…” She exhaled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside him. “I, uh, panicked behind the wheel and lost a bit of control. No one else was harmed. Just me out in the countryside, trying to get home. Back when my family lived in our old cottage.” Kate paused. “I broke my leg and had to let my family take care of me. I hated it,” she said bluntly, knowing better than soften the reality.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I can imagine,” Anthony confessed. “You’re so…<em>you</em>.” He chuckled a bit, Kate’s own smile budging at the sound. “You are not someone I can imagine enjoying being fussed over.”</p><p> </p><p>“I hated it,” she repeated, “I hated it<em> so</em> much. Being useless in bed. Unable to go out and do what I wanted…but I learned to appreciate it as well.” Biting her lips together, she looked down at her hands, Anthony’s glasses still in her grasp. “Because my family cared for me. Edwina and I would watch cartoons together in the mornings. Mary and I would have tea in the afternoon and talk about anything and everything under the sun…my dad was alive then too. He’d take me out to our little garden and we’d sketch together. He’d sometimes read to me like I was still a little girl.” She was rarely overcome with emotions regarding her father—she mourned and grieved after his death, as did all her family. Their little family was open and earnest with their pain after her father’s loss, leaning on each other for support rather than pulling away.</p><p> </p><p>But now…thinking back at how those were truly her last happy memories with her father—she bedridden for a month and half with a broken leg—made her want to cry. And laugh.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stared at her as if she’d grown another head.</p><p> </p><p>She tried to smother down her laughter, wiping away the stray tears under her eyes. “As much as I hated being fussed over, I wouldn’t trade the time I spent with my family for anything.” She sighed roughly, gaze darting between Anthony and his glasses, wanting to both remain by his side and disappear all at the same time. “Now I am not saying your potential concussion is as bad as a broken leg—”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes narrowed teasingly. “I would hope not.”</p><p> </p><p>She rolled her eyes, swatting at him. “But maybe accept the fussing and the concern and pillow fluffing with a brave face. No one likes looking broken in front of their family…but I think they need to care for you right now more than you necessarily need to be cared for. And that’s okay.”</p><p> </p><p>He chewed on the inside of his cheek, not jumping up or beaming at the suggestion. But considering it. Consideration was better than outright rejection. At least it was in Kate’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Here.” She held out his glasses. “I figure you’d like these.”</p><p> </p><p>“I do,” he confessed, accepting them. He paused, staring down at his glasses. “Do…do you think you can grab my contacts case in the bathroom?” he asked, unsure of himself. “Please?” he added a second later.</p><p> </p><p>Kate rested a hand on his arm, giving a light squeeze. “Of course.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>6:30 PM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Colin put Francesca on the first official shift.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony didn’t know if this was by design or if no one else was willing to take the first shift after dinner.</p><p> </p><p>He thought it was perhaps a case of both.</p><p> </p><p>She unceremoniously plopped herself down beside him on the bed. Her red team shirt was gone and replaced with matching black sweatpants and sweatshirt, and her long dark hair was wet, she smelling like fragrant coconut shampoo. “I brought my laptop so we can watch Netflix together,” she announced, already opening her laptop and clicking away to the desired screen. “Are you feeling horror? Romance? Comedy?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony did not have a preference. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to watch a film—he wasn’t in the mood to watch anything really. All he truly wanted was sleep, and he very well could not have that due to his current condition.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you pick?” he offered.</p><p> </p><p>His sister’s hand hovered over the mouse pad. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“You can pick the film,” he motioned to the screen. “I’ll watch whatever you want to watch.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to watch a film,” she said, brows furrowing. “I…I thought you would. As a distraction.” Francesca looked back up at him, stumped. “Do you want to watch a series? Would you prefer that?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine with whatever you want to watch, Francesca,” Anthony tried again.</p><p> </p><p>Her face pinched, hand hovering over the mouse pad once more. “Are you sure?”</p><p> </p><p>Crossing his arms, he sunk further into his bed and nodded once. “Yes, Franny, I am sure. Pick what you want. How about <em>your</em> favorite series?” he suggested.</p><p> </p><p>Her blue eyes blinked owlishly at him. “My favorite?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes…” he drawled out. “I want to know your favorite. Is that so wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no,” she shook her head, making due with scrolling through the titles on her dashboard. “I’m just surprised.” She shifted on the bed, getting more comfortable between the covers. “No one really asks for my favorite…anything.”</p><p> </p><p>A swoop of regret consumed Anthony. Did he not pay enough attention to Francesca? He knew she had her fair share of boy trouble—hard to ignore when she snuck a boy into Aubrey Hall last summer—and her studies. She was doing well at university and lived near campus with other students. But…that was about as far as his knowledge of his second to youngest sister went.</p><p> </p><p>She had a habit of keeping to herself. Of fading into the background…he didn’t mean to ignore her or not give as much attention to her. Or…to forget to pick her up from the train station.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I want to know,” Anthony assured her. “If you want, that is.”</p><p> </p><p>His sister did not shy away. “You won’t judge me right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I would not dare.”</p><p> </p><p>When she clicked on <em>Riverdale</em>, Anthony had to remind himself of the promise he made less than two seconds ago.</p><p> </p><p>He wouldn’t dare judge her. Not even if she loved to watch trashy, teen mystery dramas.</p><p> </p><p>“I know it’s garbage, but it’s entertaining garbage,” Francesca defended, only a few moments into the first episode.</p><p> </p><p>“We all have our guilty pleasures,” Anthony assured her.</p><p> </p><p>While, yes, the program was rotting his already mildly concussed brain, there was no one else he’d rather rot his brain with.</p><p> </p><p>Because his little sister smiled. Genuinely smiled. <em>At him</em>. For the first time in a long time.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>8:56 PM</strong>
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</p><p>Gregory was far more clever than Anthony gave credit. He at least had the brilliant idea of bring a set of game cards to entertain them during their two hours. A nice break from the drama of <em>Riverdale</em> (of which he promised to continue watching with Francesca after dinner the following night), where he could at least keep his brain active and not dry out his eyes by staring at a screen.</p><p> </p><p>Their game of War carried on swimmingly…until Anthony reached a dud section in his deck.</p><p> </p><p>One after another Gregory collected his winning cards, his boyish smirking growing with every subsequent win.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m starting to think you are a cheat,” Anthony muttered, slapping down another card on the duvet. Six of hearts to a King of Spades. Gregory scooped up the cards without missing a beat. “You did give the deck a proper shuffle, right?” he asked, giving the boy a stern stare. “None of the lazy shuffling?”</p><p> </p><p>“I shuffled right,” Gregory insisted, voice spiking up. He quickly cleared his throat, schooling his embarrassment.  “I simply got a lucky hand and you didn’t. No harm.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you say,” Anthony muttered. The two threw down another set, a three of diamonds against seven of spades. Gregory won. Again. And Anthony was all out of cards. “Damn.”</p><p> </p><p>Gregory chuckled, collecting the last set. The entire deck remained in his hand. “Want to do another round?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Anthony answered, rubbing at his eyes. “After five rounds of your thoroughly besting me, I’ve decided to bow out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be a sore loser—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be sore and a loser all I want since I am the one concussed,” Anthony mumbled, falling back against his pillows. He slumped, chin tucking down. “I want to go to bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate says ‘no’.”</p><p> </p><p>“And Kate’s a nurse? A medical professional,” Anthony shot back grumpily.</p><p> </p><p>“No, but her step-mum is and I’d listen to the one who has a nurse step-mum.” Gregory tucked the cards back into their worn case. He set the pack on the bedside table before flopping back against the bed, arms and legs spread out like a starfish.</p><p> </p><p>He’s always laid out lazily, since he was a toddler, when he’d barge into Anthony’s room unannounced. With chubby limbs he’d climb on to the bed and spread out like he owned the space.</p><p> </p><p>His brother sighed, face scrunching. Huffing, he flopped over on his stomach, frowning.</p><p> </p><p>“Penny for your thoughts?” Anthony ventured, believing maybe Gregory needed to talk.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to go to university,” Gregory confessed. “Honestly, I don’t know what I want to do. I’m not like…Daphne who always knew she wanted to design, or Colin who’d always wanted to travel and share his experiences with anyone and everyone. Or even like Eloise who single handedly wants to obtain all the knowledge of the world in her brain.” Anthony refrained a chuckle at Gregory’s melodramatic observation of their sister; she probably wouldn’t be too pleased to know Gregory didn’t understand what she studied. Not that anyone in the house did. “I just don’t know what I want to do next since I finished school. And I know I expected to go to Oxford as all the other Bridgerton men have done…” He scratched his head, his brown curls flopping to the side.  “But I don’t know if the academic life is for me or…” He shrugged. “What did you want to do at my age?”</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” Anthony was stumped by the question.</p><p> </p><p>“What did you want to do at my age?” Gregory asked again. “You couldn’t have always wanted to take over the family business,” he insisted, “even I know that.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony paused. Surely he had interests and passions beside the family business. When he was ten he wanted to be a professional football player. When he was twelve he thought of becoming a veterinarian so he could take care of all of the family dogs. Then at fourteen he did school plays and thus his love affair for Shakespeare ignited. For a good few years he truly considered following the path of performing and theatrical arts.</p><p> </p><p>Then there was his fascination with the flute, his lessons only lasting a few months before he gave up the endeavor altogether.</p><p> </p><p>However it wasn’t until he was attending Oxford, lost in the flourish of studying and keeping up with his classes—and his classmates—did he entertain the idea of profession he could truly see himself doing year after year; a school teacher.</p><p> </p><p>He liked children well enough (his adoration and devotion to his siblings was evidence of itself) and always had an affinity for literature; he could easily imagine a life where he became a school teacher.</p><p> </p><p>But he, like Gregory, did not know what he wanted to do with his life. He expressed such to his father, who merely shrugged, patted his back, and told him he still had plenty of time to decided.</p><p> </p><p>A load of bullshit considering Edmund died a week later.</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless his father did extend grace before his untimely demise.</p><p> </p><p>So Anthony decided to offer Gregory what their father offered to him some odd sixteen years prior.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you need to do something. You cannot <em>not</em> go to school and drift about, riding on your inheritance,” Anthony rationalized. “I will not allow it. Mother would not allow it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I do what?” Gregory asked, sounding truly lost.</p><p> </p><p>“Work for me,” Anthony offered. “As my assistant. Part time. I’m in need of another assistant in the office and this will give you time to figure out what you want to do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” His brother perked up, stunned. “You’ll let me work for you?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s mostly being an errand boy, but yes,” Anthony nodded once. “If you don’t want to go to university and feel like you need more time to think about what you want to do,  whether that be two months or five years, then yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Gregory leapt off the bed, thoroughly excited. “Yes! Yes, absolutely. I’d love to.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hoped if things didn’t play out well between him and his brother, he could blame his lack of judgement on the mild concussion.</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>10: 15 PM</strong>
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</p><p>“Do you want blue, green, or black?” Hyacinth held the three nail polish bottles out in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>Scanning the options, Anthony pointed to the black bottle. “Black. It’ll match my lucky mallet.”</p><p> </p><p>His youngest sister set aside the two other bottles. The blue and green bottles rolled across the duvet, down towards Kate who sat on the opposite side of the bed. Newton was curled up beside her as she read. She hadn’t intended to stop by (her official shift wouldn’t be for another four hours), yet Hyacinth begged her to come along.</p><p> </p><p>If there was one thing Anthony was catching on to quickly, it was Kate had a difficult time saying ‘no’ to his youngest siblings. When she was not with him, he’d often find Gregory and Hyacinth keeping her in their clutches. Cornering her at meals, stopping by her room to chat—simply gravitating towards Kate and latching on to her.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony found it adorable; rarely did he find anything his siblings did these days ‘adorable,’ a true feat of itself.</p><p> </p><p>Twisting off the brush from the bottle, Hyacinth reached for his left hand. “Keep your hand still and don’t move.”</p><p> </p><p>He listened, this not his first rodeo. With four younger sisters, occasional manicures were part of his job description of dutiful older brother.</p><p> </p><p>“I think what Eloise did to you was wrong,” Hyacinth stated, swiping the little brush along his index nail. “I’ve decided to disown her as my sister. I will only acknowledge Daphne and Francesca from now on.”</p><p> </p><p>From behind her book, Kate snickered. She tried to cover it with a cough, but he knew better.</p><p> </p><p>“Hyacinth,” Anthony began with a sigh, “you can’t disown Eloise. The only person capable of disowning in this family is myself and mother—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then disown her,” Hyacinth ordered, blasé.</p><p> </p><p>“I am not going to disown Eloise,” he told her, inflexible on the matter. “Contrary to my injury, I quite like her.”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth rolled her eyes. She dipped her brush back into the bottle, then resumed her brushing, nearly done with his left hand. “She doesn’t like you. I heard her ranting to Penelope the other day. Says you’re pig-headed.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony opened his mouth, unsure of how to turn this around. Hyacinth took great pride in being his sister, of being <em>his</em> family. He was wrapped around her finger the moment she was born and she knew this. Terribly so.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne often claimed it was because he was the only ‘father’ Hyacinth would ever know. While she could never relate to the memories of Edmund with her siblings, she had her own special memories with Anthony no one else could claim, besides Gregory, and she learned how take it in stride.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, he is,” Kate interjected, setting down her book. Both Anthony and Hyacinth’s heads snapped to her, confused. “Anthony is pig-headed,” Kate clarified with an indifferent shrug, “but so are <em>all</em> men. So Eloise isn’t necessarily wrong to call Anthony ‘pig-headed,’ but it is not the nicest thing to say about one’s brother.” Her face scrunched, feigning deep thought. “However I don’t think her remark, nor her accidental actions, are grounds for disownment. Everyone says unkind things about their siblings, especially words they may not truly mean. I am sure you have said plenty about Eloise that have never reached her ears.”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth’s lips pursed, not pleased with Kate, yet still taking the time to assess the woman’s judgement call. “I suppose…” she muttered. “But I’m still not going to talk to her until she apologies,” she decided, moving on his right hand.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s…fair, I guess,” Kate mumbled, not entirely committed to the thought.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth hummed, not lifting her eyes from her manicure work. “It is.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony and Kate shared a glance, both unsure of whether to laugh or fear the girl before them.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate, would you like your nails painted blue, green, or black?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I don’t really have my nails done—”</p><p> </p><p>“Blue, green, or black?” Hyacinth’s words sliced through, sounding prim, a stark contrast to the imploring eyes locked on Kate.</p><p> </p><p>“Green,” Kate answered, undaunted by the girl.</p><p> </p><p>“Great,” Hyacinth beamed, finishing off Anthony’s right hand. “Green is definitely your color, Katherine!”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>11: 45 PM</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>“I thought Daphne had the next shift?” Anthony said upon Simon’s arrival.</p><p> </p><p>“She fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake her,” Simon explained. His eyes scanned the room, brows furrowing. “I thought Kate was here.”</p><p> </p><p>“She went to make tea.” His faithful companion for most of the night was becoming sleepy as the hours waned on. Anthony urged her to go make tea under the guise <em>he</em> wanted tea. Which he did, but not enough to warrant making tea, but he hoped it would wake her up a bit and give him a moment alone.</p><p> </p><p>Not a long moment apparently, as Simon made himself comfortable in the armchair closest to the bed. “How’s your head?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” Anthony supposed he could be honest with his oldest friend. Simon wouldn’t flip or have a meltdown if he told him the truth—not like his siblings. “A dull headache. But I don’t know if it is from the hit or from exhaustion.”</p><p> </p><p>“A valid observation,” Simon chuckled, reclining back into the chair. He clucked his tongue, eyes locking on the high, vaulted ceiling. “Personally I think you already have had enough brain damage in your life, another clock on the head would do nothing to you.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony chuckled. “Fair point.”</p><p> </p><p>He’d experienced plenty of collisions, bumps, and bruises in his life. Simon had been there for at least half of them. The rather boyish part of him wanted to shrug off concern, go to sleep, and finish off the games in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>Yet the logical worrier in him knew that could not be the case. He needed to take care of himself and not shrug off certain injuries. Not when he had his family counting on him.</p><p> </p><p>Silence lulled over the old friends, companionable and familiar. While their friendship had certainly changed over the years, Anthony could not imagine any other man joining the Bridgerton family—a different man sitting in the chair, watching over him due to a concussion. The thought was absurd.</p><p> </p><p>“Daphne confides in you,” Simon stated, clear voice filling the silence.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony lifted his head, nodding once. “Even when I don’t want her to,” he joked.</p><p> </p><p>Simon didn’t laugh.</p><p> </p><p>Well, <em>shit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Sensing there was more to this conversation, Anthony sat up, turning as best he could to face Simon. “Yes, she does confide in me,” he amended.</p><p> </p><p>“So…” Simon became pensive, chin resting in his hand as he edged out the next question. “So she’d tell you if…if something was the matter? If something was wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“Is something wrong?” Anthony asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” Simon nearly snapped. He swallowed tightly, forcing his shoulders to relax. “That’s why I am asking you.” Sitting up, he rubbed at his jaw, an aggravated huff escaping him. “She’s been off lately. More emotional than usual. More exhausted. Irritable.” He rolled his eyes, apparently a story there. “I try to help her, she doesn’t want my help. And when I don’t help, she scolds me for not helping her. I never know what she wants these days, and I pride myself on meeting all my wife’s needs!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony screwing his eyes shut. “You…did not need to word it like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“But it’s the truth,” Simon answered smugly, before being weighed back down his situation. “I know something is wrong and she is purposely not telling me. I’m not an idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>God, how Anthony wanted to tell Simon. Blurt out the truth and not see his friend in complete and utter turmoil.</p><p> </p><p>But he made a promise to Daphne. He’d keep his mouth shut. He wouldn’t tell Simon.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you asked her?” Anthony winced out, already knowing it was the wrong thing to say.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Simon ground out, “and she says ‘nothing.’”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony floundered; this was his sister’s marriage, and he had not business being involved. He did not need to be roped their melodrama again. He knew his place, yet Daphne telling him about the pregnancy…</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know—”</p><p> </p><p>“You know what’s wrong with her,” Simon told him, any excuse Anthony formed swallowed back. “I know you know. Don’t lie to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Well, there was no point in beating around the bush. He’d try to be as honest as he could without betraying his sister. “Daphne told me not to tell you. Because she’d tell you when she was ready.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon’s eyes narrowed. “You are a fantastic brother. But a shit friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been made aware I am shit at many things in my life.” Anthony ran a hand through his hair, unable to argue with Simon. “However most of the assessments contradict the other.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t tell me.” Simon stood up from the chair. “Whatever is going on with Daphne, don’t tell me. I don’t want her to lose the faith she has in you. I’ll find out on my own what is going on.”</p><p> </p><p>“If it’s any consolation,” Anthony didn’t flinch away at Simon’s aggravated glare, being on the end of it more times than he’d care to count, “I think it is obvious what is going on with her. Just…pay close attention to her and I think you’ll find your answer.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon’s stoic expression softened. “Like I said, fantastic brother, shit friend.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>2:17 AM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“And I was like—” Colin hiccupped, struggling to catch his breath. “Trying to explain—” He collapsed into another fit of giggles, nearly falling off the bed. “But…But…” He wheezed, unable to continue the story—if what he was describing could even be called a story.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict was no better, zoned out on the armchair and working on his sixth scone. He did little to help Colin.</p><p> </p><p>Honestly Anthony should have expected his brothers would arrive high for their shifts. He should have taken their joint shift as a warning sign. Leaving Benedict and Colin together, to their own devices, only led to trouble.</p><p> </p><p>Rolling over on the bed, Colin stared up at him, giggling. His hands reached up and slapped lazily at Anthony’s face.</p><p> </p><p>He stiffened. Slowly turn his head, he glared down at the buffoon. “I am going to <em>kill</em> you!”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay!” Kate leapt off from the foot of the bed. “As fun as this has been, it is time for you two to go.” She hurried around the bed, practically pushing Colin off the bed and out the door.</p><p> </p><p>He giggled the entire time.</p><p> </p><p>“Hurry off now. Go find Pen and bother her,” she muttered, holding open the door. “You too,” she called to Benedict. “Brotherly bonding is over for the night.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict at least caught the memo. At snail’s pace he stood and walked out the door, a glib grin sent their way.</p><p> </p><p>Kate shut the door behind him, ignoring their calls of goodnight.</p><p> </p><p>“I expected better of them.”</p><p> </p><p>“And that is your fatal flaw.”</p><p> </p><p>“To expect good out of people,” she shot back. “I rather think it is a positive quality.”</p><p> </p><p>“Best to expect nothing at all.”</p><p> </p><p>“I doubt you exhibit such philosophy,” Kate was quick to counter, taking a seat on the bed once more. “I’ve seen you—you cannot help but expect the best out of your siblings. You want them to be good people.”</p><p> </p><p>“And they are,” he replied, “when they want to be.” He nodded to the door. “Right they didn’t want to be.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s lips twitched. But instead of her usual slight, warm smile, a yawn broke through.</p><p> </p><p>Her hand clasped over her mouth a second later, catching the tail end. “Sorry. It’s been a long day,” she frowned, “long night,” she amended.</p><p> </p><p>Guilt gnawed at him. “You should go to bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no.” She waved the notion away. “Someone has to stay awake with you and your mother won’t be stopping by for another two hours.”</p><p> </p><p>“Benedict and Colin were supposed to stay up with me, not you,” Anthony reminded her. “I’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope.” Kate stubbornly shook her head, rubbing frantically at her eyes. “I’m staying up. No matter what you—” Another yawn interrupted her.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate—”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” She sat up, back ramrod straight and blinking her eyes rapidly. “I’m awake. So awake. Not a bit tired. I could run a marathon.”</p><p> </p><p>He raised an eyebrow, far too amused by her sleep deprived persistence. “Really? I’d like to see that. Right now.”</p><p> </p><p>She scowled, hugging a pillow to her chest. “Okay, maybe not a marathon. But I can stay up the rest of the night. More tea would do the trick.”</p><p> </p><p>He caught her elbow, stopping Kate from climbing out of bed. She’d been buzzing about all night, popping in and out of his room, double checking on him every other hour. More than once an hour she’d ask him about his symptoms, tried to keep him comfortable in bed, and refilled their tea.</p><p> </p><p>At first it’d been fun to watch her go into full caretaker mode. But as the evening dwindled into night, Anthony saw the concern. She wasn’t panicking like his siblings (Francesca had been on edge their entire time together) or reacting in poor taste (Hyacinth wanting to disown Eloise, and Colin and Benedict’s high episode), but she kept herself busy.</p><p> </p><p>Kate never sat down for more than a few minutes and he had no idea what she got up to when she left the room—however, he did have an inkling she’d been checking in on the others.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony recognized the frantic, restless energy surrounding her. He was the same, as was Daphne, and their father. A strange sight to see the familiar restlessness in someone else. To see it in Kate.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get the tea,” he insisted. Anthony stood up, groaning as his lower back popped. He’d been sitting in one spot for far too long and need to move, desperately. “My legs need a good stretch.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can—”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Kate,” he told her. “I’ll get the tea. You stay put. Can you do that?”</p><p> </p><p>Lips pressed together in a fine line, Kate nodded into the pillow. “Yes. I can.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be back then.” He began to leave, though not without turning to her once more. “And don’t follow me. Even after I go down the stairs. I’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then go!” She flopped back on the bed, a disturbed Newton’s head popping from the mountain of blankets he nested. “I’ll be waiting!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony left his bedroom in favor for the kitchen. Most of the house remained still in the night, only the dim light of the hall sconces evidence of any sign of life. As he passed by each of his siblings rooms, he’d pause, check to see if light seeped from under the door and then continue.</p><p> </p><p>Each room’s light was off. They’d all gone to bed. As they should.</p><p> </p><p>By the time he reached the kitchen, Anthony felt blood pumping through his body again, less lethargic than he’d been moments ago. Going on autopilot, he turned on the electric kettle and grabbed another set of mugs from the cabinet.</p><p> </p><p>He’d been in the middle of searching for the ever traveling tea tin when the kitchen door swung open.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony huffed, head lulling forward. “I told you not to follow me, Kate. I’m a big-boy. I can make a simple cuppa.”</p><p> </p><p>When he heard no smart retort back, he turned around.</p><p> </p><p>Only not to find Kate, but <em>Eloise</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She stood back against the door, eyes welling and large.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t mean to hit you,” she said, voice hoarse. Her hands fisted at her sides, the sleeves of her oversized, raggedy sweater caught in her grip. “I wanted to kill you because of everything you did—seeing Phillip, digging your nose into my business. But I didn’t want to actually kill you!”</p><p> </p><p>She dashed forward, right into his chest, hugging Anthony in a bruising embrace.</p><p> </p><p>A heartbreaking sob rattled though her. “I’m sorry for saying you’re a terrible brother. You’re not. You’re really not.” Her snot and warm tears seep into his t-shirt. Inhaling deeply, steadying his own stir of emotions—<em>anger, guilt, regret, forgiveness—</em>he held his little sister close, chin resting on the top of her head. He’d hold for as long as she needed; he’d let her talk and cry it out. Anthony would be the brother she needed him to be. “I was just so upset. With myself. About you. About Phillip. And—and,” a shaky exhale quaked through her, “I am <em>so</em> tired.” She hiccupped. “So, so tired. I want to go to sleep and let this all be over.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Anthony tried his best to assure her, patting down her mussed hair. “I know, Eloise. I want to say it’ll get better but…” He swallowed, knowing he was useless in this matter. He already did all he could and his actions were not welcomed. “I don’t know if it will. Whatever happened between you and Phillip…as much as I want to, I cannot fix this for you.”</p><p> </p><p>He felt her nod against his chest. Pulling away, she wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I don’t want you to fix it for me. I don’t. But…” Her face crumpled. “Can I tell you? What happened that is. Because I tried to tell Pen but…” She sniffed, shaking her head. “But she got frustrated with me, and hurt, and she has every right. I didn’t even tell <em>her</em> about Phillip. I went fucking MIA on her too.” Her voice cracked, another piece of her crumbling away. She dropped her face into her hands, the picture of near defeat.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me then,” Anthony said, hands planted firmly on her shoulders. “Tell me all you want to tell me. And I’ll listen.”</p><p> </p><p>Relief pulled on her, shoulders slumping. Lifting her head up, she wiped at her eyes and nose once more. “I ran away. I panicked and ran away. That’s what happened. And it mess up everything.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>3:23 AM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>As he nudged open his bedroom door with both his and Kate’s tea in hand, Anthony mentally prepared for a scolding.</p><p> </p><p>Yet when he entered the room he was met with silence.</p><p> </p><p>Kate was asleep. Curled up on her side, facing the door, and Newton snoring by her feet.</p><p> </p><p>She’d been waiting for him. And he left her stranded, within good reason, but stranded in the room nonetheless. Coming up to her side of the bed, he set down their tea, yet made no effort to wake her.</p><p> </p><p>He wanted this, for Kate to rest. She deserved to get some sleep; she wasn’t the one with a potential concussion, merely a person who cared far too much.</p><p> </p><p>With a careful hand, he tugged the duvet out from under her and laid the blanket over her. A deep sigh eased from her at the familiar weight, the faint pinch in her brow smoothing.</p><p> </p><p>Satisfied with her comfortability, he went around to his side of the bed. Mindful to not wake her, he gradually sat down. Newton trotted over to his side, propping his head on Anthony’s thigh.</p><p> </p><p>Lazily he pet the corgi, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. “You’ll keep me company, won’t you boy?”</p><p> </p><p>Newton answered with a soft snore.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>4: 44 AM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>A firm hand shook his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony,” his mother hushed voice demanded, “Anthony, wake up. You can’t sleep, remember?”</p><p> </p><p>He inhaled sharply, roused from his impromptu slumber. He squinted his eyes open, his glasses skewed half up, only one side of his vision vaguely focused. Slopping, he nudged his glasses back in place, finding his mother sitting at the edge of his bed, brows furrowed.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought she was supposed to keep you awake.” Mother nodded to the side of him.</p><p> </p><p>The pressing weight on his left arm and side of his chest came to his immediate attention.</p><p> </p><p>Kate must have rolled over in her sleep, her head now partially resting on his shoulder and an arm thrown around his middle.</p><p> </p><p>He flushed, feeling his mother’s stare on him.</p><p> </p><p>“She was supposed to,” Anthony muttered, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. “But I very well could not force her to stay up all night when there was no need.”</p><p> </p><p>“Making sure your are okay is a need,” Mother told him. “But I understand. It’s been a long twenty-four hours. She must be knackered.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hummed in agreement, not commenting any further on the matter. He didn’t need his mother poking and probing at his Kate situation again.</p><p> </p><p>“How are you feeling?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I feel fine. Tired, but fine,” he answered honestly, and kept his response short. “I want to sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“You shouldn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s almost five in the morning,” he reasoned. “Kate’s mother won’t be here for another couple of hours. I haven’t felt nauseous or dizzy, not since I was out on the field. My headaches even gone away. I think a nap won’t harm me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like to keep with precautions,” Mother argued, a disappointed frown emerging like clock-work. “We want to keep you in good health.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am in good health.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes narrowed, perturbed by him. Sighing, Violet began to adjust and rearrange his duvet, fluffing up the weighty blanket.</p><p> </p><p>“Mother—”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you please let me do this,” she murmured, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. “Can you let me take care of you for once?”</p><p> </p><p>He tensed, arm around Kate tightening. “I don’t need to be taken care of.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony, you were injured,” she reminded him, sharp. “Let me be your mother and worry about you and fix your blankets and fluff your pillows, damn it.”</p><p> </p><p>He snapped his mouth shut. He’d never heard his mother curse, this a startling first.</p><p> </p><p>Mother’s hands stopped, eyes snapping shut, a weary breath exhaled. “You take care of everyone,” she began. “All your siblings. All the time. Can you let us take care of your for once, is that so hard to ask for?”</p><p> </p><p>He felt a lump form in his throat at the question.</p><p> </p><p>Because yes, for some damn reason it was hard to ask for. Far too much to ask from him.</p><p> </p><p>Blinking rapidly, he looked away from his mother. His eyes landed on the spill of dark curls beside him. He refrained from wrapping a loose strand around his finger.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t need to be looked after or taken care of,” he gritted out. “I haven’t needed such care in a very long time. Not since…” He chewed his lips shut.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t go there. His mother didn’t need him to pull the dead father card. There was no need to stoop low.</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone needs to be looked after.” Violet paused, her fussing hands clasped together on her lap. “Even the most capable person needs someone to take care of them every once in a while.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony kept his gaze trained on the top of Kate’s head, willing himself to not glance over to his mother anymore. To not see her pleading eyes, or her dismayed grimace.</p><p> </p><p>“You know…you don’t need to be doing this alone. Taking care of the family.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mother, I cannot reverse how my siblings view me,” Anthony attempted to rationalize with her, hoping to be sensible and not too harsh in the early hour. But sleep deprivation could only make his exhaustion more provoked. “I cannot stop caring for them or be less involved in their lives when I am the one they reach out to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then at least let me be your mother,” Violet requested. “I want my son back.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, the headache creeping back into the forefront of his skull. “It’s not that simple—”</p><p> </p><p>“I often feel that day I did not only lose my husband but I lost my little boy as well. You became someone I didn’t recognize.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony flinched at her words. “Because I didn’t have a choice,” he argued, this time not caring if his words landed a blow, if he hurt her feelings because half the time it felt like she paid little regard for his. “Someone had to put on a brave face and move forward. It certainly wasn’t going to be you.”</p><p> </p><p>She winced, apologetic. “Anthony—”</p><p> </p><p>But he didn’t want apologies. He didn’t want anything of the like. All he wanted was this sensitive nerve to be left <em>alone</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“You were grieving,” he reminded her; not upset, only matter-of-fact. “You were pregnant with Hyacinth. I didn’t expect you to do anything. I stepped up and it was my decision because…you’re my family. In my eyes there was no other option.”</p><p> </p><p>His mother remained quiet.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t too sure how long they sat, not looking at each other, in the stretching silence.</p><p> </p><p>But soon she stood up and began to make her leave.</p><p> </p><p>She stopped at the door, turning to him, a reserved melancholy in her being. “I appreciate all you’ve done. I only wish I could have done more for you.”</p><p> </p><p>At the click of the shut door, a chest-aching exhale broke through him.</p><p> </p><p>Closing his eyes, he pushed the prickling pressure of tears away. Instead he held Kate close, nose pressed to her soft curls.</p><p> </p><p>He could have sworn she held back just as tight, if not fiercer.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did Kate hear all of Anthony and Violet's conversation? The world will never know ;)</p><p>OKAY ABOUT CONCUSSIONS--I did some research, mostly on the debate of if someone actually needs to stay awake for 24hrs after a concussion. The answer several medical websites gave me was...yes and no. Yes--if they have yet to see a medical professional who could give a proper assessment, which is the case with Anthony in this chapter. If someone has had a proper assessment and knows the severity of their concussion, then they follow the instructions of their doctor. Simple as that. </p><p>KATE'S BROKEN LEG--I am assuming plenty of you are surprised by the decision to give Kate a broken leg PRIOR to meeting Anthony. Especially since it IS a crucial incident in TVWLM. She is not going to break her leg again (I am not that cruel 👀) but I have a different scenario in mind for the climax of this story (aka the moment Anthony realizes he loves Kate and cannot live without her (btw, I reread that chapter while listening to Vitamin String Quartet's cover of Paramore's "Only Exception" and I must say PLEASE TAKE NOTE IT IS A QUINTISENTIAL KATE/ANTHONY SONG AND I PRAY IT IS USED IN THE SHOW EVEN THOUGH IT IS UNLIKELY.) So I say...don't worry too much about the broken leg situation. </p><p> </p><p>On another note...</p><p>I am entering a slightly (jk, MAJORLY) busy season in my life (which is super great--just with lots of growing pains), so I am going to ~try~ an update schedule. The goal will be to at least update on the weekend and once in the middle of the week. I love this fic so much I am positive it might be more like a few updates in a week like in the past, but I am just throwing this out there so no one is like "WHERE IS INTPSLYTHERIN? IS SHE OKAY?" when I don't update every other day like the writing maniac I am 😂</p><p>Anyways...LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS AND THEORIES! I LOVE THEM ALL!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Check-Ups & Mallet Hunts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In this next installment of "How much longer can I put off pall mall?" we have the appearance of a beloved character--MARY.</p><p>Slowly responding to comments! Know I love and adore every single one! You guys are the best readers ever!</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Follow my pen.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s eyes trailed the pen in Mary Sheffield’s hand. As she went back and forth with the pen, he could see how this woman raised Kate and Edwina. Five feet tall, graying blonde hair tied up in perfect French twist, and not an ounce of exhaustion in her body despite completing a full night shift and driving two hours out to Aubrey Hall. Mary was a woman to be reckoned with.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay…” She clicked the pen, scribbling on her notepad. “Kate tells me you work for a media publications. What type of publications?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh—” He wasn’t even aware Kate knew any details about his work, momentarily stumped by the question. “Bridgerton Media Publications has three divisions—magazines, book publishing, and newspapers. While I am technically the president of the company, my duties more so fall under the book publishing house. That division has always been overseen by a Bridgerton since 1895.”</p><p> </p><p>She let out a low whistle. “Your family has quite the history then,” she joked. “When were you born?”</p><p> </p><p>“September 17<sup>th</sup> 1985,” he answered swiftly. “A cool Tuesday morning, as my mother would like to tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary smiled. “Mothers like to remember those little details.” Her lips pursed scanning  her pad. “Have you felt nauseous or the need to vomit?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not since I was on the field.”</p><p> </p><p>She hummed. “And headaches?”</p><p> </p><p>“Haven’t felt one since last night. But have chronic headaches,” he added, “so it could very well be that.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary paused. “How long have these chronic headaches been around?”</p><p> </p><p>He opened his mouth, only to realize he didn’t have an answer. “I…don’t know. A long time?”</p><p> </p><p>Her hum didn’t sound pleasant this time. “Have you see someone about your chronic headaches?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>She tsked, nodding once. “Right—Kate mentioned you don’t like hospitals and doctors.” Clicking and unclicking her pen, she looked back down at him. “I don’t think there is any brain damage, thankfully, or that you’d fall into a coma.” She paused at his concerned frown. “One of your sister’s asked me that when I came in. Told her it was unlikely.” Her eyes drifted back to her notes. “You have a crystal clear memory of events, your motor skills are fine, and based on what your family has told me you haven’t experienced any odd moods.”</p><p> </p><p>“So the verdict?”</p><p> </p><p>“In my opinion, the hit was a shock to your system causing a <em>mild</em> concussion—nothing too concerning, at least not to the point where I think you should go to the doctor for more tests. I think within a few days’ time you’ll be fine. All the achiness you are feeling is perhaps from all the running and shoving you were doing throughout the day yesterday.” She tucked her pen and pad back into her purse on the nightstand. “I recommend rest. Drink plenty of fluids, you seem a bit dehydrated. No screens for more than a half hour or hour at most. I’ll have Kate keep me updated on your condition, for your mother’s sake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Better in a few days?” Anthony asked, not pleased with the timeframe. “We still have one more game for field day—I <em>have</em> to play.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary tutted, tucking her purse over her shoulder. “I suggest you postpone.”</p><p> </p><p>“We cannot postpone,” Anthony insisted. “We have to complete the games today. It is the most important game of field day.”</p><p> </p><p>She crossed her arms, staring down her nose at him. He immediately felt like a child in her presence. “What’s the game then?”</p><p> </p><p>“Croquet,” he found himself mumbling.</p><p> </p><p>“More flying balls,” she said with a tsked. “But this is important to you, yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“And the only game left?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Anthony repeated. “Then I’ll be in bed for the rest of the day. And tomorrow. And the following if need be.”</p><p> </p><p>She sighed, considering the suggestion. “How about you sleep right now, and if you wake up feeling in tip-top shape, you get to have your game.” A statement, not a question.</p><p> </p><p>Realizing there was no winning with this no nonsense woman, Anthony had no other option but to agree. “Sounds like a splendid idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d figure you’d believe so.” She patted his shoulder with a polite grin. “You get back into bed and sleep. I’ll tell your family the good news.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you—”</p><p> </p><p>“And don’t think I didn’t notice you went from one Sheffield girl to the other,” she called out as she made her leave. “I can smell Kate’s shampoo and soap everywhere in this room. Including on yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>She shut the door behind her before he could even think of an adequate response.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“He’s fine, but he needs rest,” Mary told the family, all the Bridgertons and guests gathered in the family room. “He’s going to bed right now, so I ask no one bother him.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet looked beyond relieved, standing up to thank Mary. The tension in the room eased, relief flooding the rest of the siblings at the news.</p><p> </p><p>“I knew he’d be fine,” Colin muttered.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise swatted his arm, thoroughly annoyed. “Oi, shut it. You were crying last night after dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t!” he shot back, earning snickers around the room. “I wasn’t!” he insisted once more, the laughter increasing. “He’s my brother! I love him, of course I was still scared even though I knew he’d be okay.” Flustered Colin left the room, his teasing siblings following right after him.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting squished between Gregory and Hyacinth on the loveseat, Kate smothered down her own giggles. The Bridgertons coped the best they could with the previous day’s events, she wasn’t surprised some of them weren’t keen to share their worries. If she learned anything the last two weeks, it was Bridgertons were a stubborn lot.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth’s head dropped on to Kate’s shoulder, the girl hugging her arm. “Thanks for taking care of Anthony last night.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate softened. “Of course, Hyacinth. He’s my friend. I was happy to care for him.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wish you were a Bridgerton so you can take care of Anthony forever,” she sighed, “he needs someone to watch over him.”</p><p> </p><p>“The only way Kate can become a Bridgerton is if she marries Anthony,” Gregory chimed. Kate schooled her expression; this was not the first time a Bridgerton had the gall to mention marriage and Anthony to her in the same sentence. Each and every time she wanted to yelp out in defiance. “Or myself. I rather like you dear Katherine, but you’re a bit old for me.” His nose wrinkled teasingly. “Is she not, Hyacinth?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, I guess,” she mused, “but if I do my math right…you are closer to Gregory’s age than you are Anthony’s. So the choice is yours—would you like to marry an old man or become a cradle robber?”</p><p> </p><p>“Decisions, decisions,” Gregory tutted.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing dramatically, Kate patted the boy’s babyface cheek. “I’m sorry Gregory, but I prefer my men with hair on their chest and stubble on their face. As in I want a <em>man</em>, not a <em>boy</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth convulsed into giggles at Gregory’s gob-smacked yet gleeful face. She clutched Kate’s arm for dear life. “I’ve decided you can never leave us. Say goodbye to the life you knew because we are keeping you forever.”</p><p> </p><p>The sentiment touched her, a smile emerging at the girl’s mirth. “As much as I’d like to stay forever, I need to get up and take Newton for a walk. Poor boy has been cooped up all morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll go with you,” Hyacinth declared.</p><p> </p><p>“Me too,” Gregory added, getting up from the loveseat.</p><p> </p><p>Remaining seated, Kate stared up at the two. “That’s not really nece—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll got get his leash.” Hyacinth was already running off towards the mudroom.</p><p> </p><p>“Not if I get it first!” Gregory called out, dashing after her.</p><p> </p><p>“They seem like the rambunctious duo.” Kate turn to behind her, finding Mary behind her, having watched the entire exchange. “The youngest I assume?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Kate answered, shifting over to let her step-mother take a seat. “But arguably the sweetest.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary looked more than a little tired, but content and relieved to sit down. A cup of tea was soon set beside her by Daphne, the woman sharing a small smile with the two. She sat down on the loveseat opposite them, picking up her own cup of tea. Despite wearing herself out the previous day with the games, Daphne looked like the picture perfect wife and daughter. Hair perfectly placed, her loose linen blue shirt pressed and ironed, and a natural glow surrounding her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate, on the other hand, felt like she’d been bulldozed. Sure, she slept for a couple of hours. But it was difficult to act like she’d been asleep during Violet and Anthony’s conversation.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hadn’t wanted to talk. And Kate didn’t push him to. Instead they sat together, pretending the other was asleep when they knew very well they were not.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you so much again Mrs. Sheffield for taking the trip on such short notice,” Daphne thanked. “Please feel free to let me know if you need anything. My mother and I would be happy to help you in anyway during your stay.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary appeared charmed by Daphne, it was difficult for one not to be. “I’m quite alright dear. Thank you though.” She took her tea, sparing a small glance at Kate. “You don’t need to sit with me. Go walk your beast.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not a beast,” Kate huffed, though grinning at the endearment. “I’ll have you know, Newton is beloved here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony adores the dog,” Violet added, “I’ve never seen him happier than when he is with Kate and Newton.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary positively brightened at the remark. She turned to Kate chuffed. “Really? You never told me you spent so much time with Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>“I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then again, you haven’t called all that much since you arrived here. And now I know why,” she said with a chuckle, both Violet and Daphne joining in. Mary nudged her again. “Go walk Newton. Let us chat without your hovering.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate frowned. “I’m not hovering.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony does the same thing,” Daphne said. “If he catches any wind of himself in the conversation he has to be in the mix.”</p><p> </p><p>“Two peas in a pod then,” Mary surmised.</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly!” Daphne beamed, before turning to Kate. “I promise we will not say anything incriminating about you. We’re merely teasing.” The little twinkle in Daphne’s eyes told Kate otherwise, yet she had no choice but to accept her word. Especially since it seemed the women were kicking her out of the room altogether.</p><p> </p><p>Gradually standing up from the loveseat, Kate left the cackling women to their own devices. She needed to find Hyacinth and Gregory and hope to god they hadn’t tried to walk ahead with Newton on their own.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Mary quickly concluded a few notable idiosyncrasies of the Bridgertons and guests upon arriving at Aubrey Hall:</p><p> </p><p> </p><ol>
<li>
<em>The Bridgertons were a noisy, nosey, and nonsensical clan</em>.</li>
</ol><p> </p><p> </p><p>The children—adult children—were crowded at the door at her arrival, asking ten thousand questions at once. Questions about mild verses sever concussions, a comas, and statistics of footballs causing lasting damage to the brain. They were a determined family, wanting to get answers as soon as possible.</p><p> </p><p>The only sensible one in the crowd was a quite young lady with bright blue eyes who helped lead her away from the rest of the siblings to the matriarch, Violet Bridgerton, who lingered by the top of stairs.</p><p> </p><p>The girl, Francesca, explained the family had taken shifts to watch Anthony through the night. They tried their best to keep him awake, but sleep was inevitable.</p><p> </p><p>Mary expected as such. Edwina and Kate recounted a rather action-packed day at Aubrey Hall, the family putting together a field day. Hence the football injury.</p><p> </p><p>A thirty-five year old man running around like a school boy was bound to be exhausted, a potential concussion a cherry on top. Kate assured her Anthony was in good health, if not just a tad neurotic (read: <em>massively neurotic</em>). So Mary prepared herself for a simple check-up; asking the average questions and making note of any red flag symptoms.</p><p> </p><p> </p><ol>
<li><em>Violet Bridgerton was a delight. As were all her children despite their initial, abrasive greetings.</em></li>
</ol><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Daphne Bridgerton-Basset carried herself with lovely grace; Mary had half the mind to ask her if she pursued ballet. Her girls had taken classes as children, but the skill never stuck with either. Kate had two left feet, always three steps behind the rest of the class, while Edwina often daydreamed in the middle of class, bumping into the other children when distracted.</p><p> </p><p>The other girls—Eloise, Francesca, and Hyacinth (who seemed to be glued to Kate’s side for most of the morning)—were clever and brilliant in their own ways. But distant. None of them joined them for tea, much to Violet’s displeasure, but made promises to chat during lunch.</p><p> </p><p>The boys were kind, polite, and charming. Mary immediately understood why Lady Whistledown always felt the need to mention at least one Bridgerton man once a day on her ever popular twitter. The two second eldest, Benedict and Colin, knew how to entertain, a natural charisma in their demeanors.</p><p> </p><p>Chatting over tea, it was no surprise to see Violet prided herself of her children. She spoke highly of their accomplishments and studies and careers. Anthony taking over the family business, Benedict the artist, Colin the traveler, Daphne the designer, Eloise her forever scholar.</p><p> </p><p>Yet Mary could not help but notice the strange sadness in the woman’s eyes as she spoke. There was love in her words, a love only a mother could possess, but her eyes…</p><p> </p><p>Daphne excused herself after some time, no longer engaging in the conversation since Violet began to speak of Benedict’s art. The only child she seemed to know in great detail.</p><p> </p><p>Pity welled in her.</p><p> </p><p>Violet Bridgerton only knew of her children’s achievements, not of who they were as people. A startling clear truth.</p><p> </p><p>She liked the woman. She did. But Mary could not help but feel Violet was bit lost.</p><p> </p><p>In her line of work, Mary had encountered plenty of people of all backgrounds. People like Violet. Widows. Mother’s who did not know how to connect to their children, completely stunned when tragedy struck their family. Lonely souls who tried their best to be happy.</p><p> </p><p>And Violet looked like she was trying.</p><p> </p><p>Mary wondered if she needed a friend who understood.</p><p> </p><p>“Did Kate ever mention I’m widowed as well?”</p><p> </p><p>The woman’s tense shoulders dipped ever so slightly. “Ah, no. However Anthony did mention the girl’s father passing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whenever you are up to it I’d love to hear a story about your husband. Speaking about Miles, my husband, softens the pain more than I could ever imagine.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet’s gentle smile told Mary this was exactly what the woman needed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><ol>
<li><em>Kate and Anthony were attached at the hip, absolutely besotted with each other—even if they did not notice this themselves.</em></li>
</ol><p> </p><p> </p><p>“<em>I am telling you Mama</em>,” Edwina whispered giddily over the receiver the previous night, “<em>he is </em>smitten<em> with her</em>.” She giggled, enthralled with the sudden romance brewing between Kate and the eldest Bridgerton—Edwina’s once boyfriend. “<em>Anthony stares at Kate like she is the brightest star in the sky. How she does not notice this is beyond me</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Mary took her youngest daughter’s word with a grain of salt. Edwina had an active imagination. Both her girls did. Kate liked to talk to herself and had imaginary friends for far too long, while Edwina would read far too into social interactions.</p><p> </p><p>Yet it was hard to deny Edwina’s claims when the evidence continue to pile.</p><p> </p><p>Such as the fact Kate was the one to open Anthony’s bedroom door when she came to give him a check-up. Her curls were a mess, pulled in a halfhearted ponytail, but it was obvious she’d been sleeping in the room with Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>Or how right after her walk around the grounds with Hyacinth and Gregory, Kate tugged Newton along upstairs so he could be with Anthony. She came downstairs moments later, Newton-less, and with a blithesome smile.</p><p> </p><p>The same smile that’d tug on her lips when someone merely mentioned the man.</p><p> </p><p>Then there was the seating in the dinning room.</p><p> </p><p>For lunch Anthony ventured downstairs, his family pleased to see him making a speedy recovery. A simple nap had done wonders for him, the eldest Bridgerton more alert than he’d been earlier in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>Seating had shuffled around, Violet insisting Mary sit beside her for the meal. Her girls were caught on the opposite side of the table, lost in their own conversations. Edwina was talking animatedly between herself, Josie, and Eloise, the three girls laughter filling the table.</p><p> </p><p>Then Mary saw <em>them</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony and Kate, engaged in their own quiet conversation, despite the boisterous talk bouncing off the walls. Both lost in their own little pocket of the world.</p><p> </p><p>“They are like that all the time,” Violet told her, voice dropped low. “Always with each other. Talking to each other. They probably wouldn’t notice if we all up and left the table,” she said with a chuckle. Sobering, the fellow mother sighed, almost happily. “He’s never looked at anyone like that…”</p><p> </p><p>In pure adoration.</p><p> </p><p>A merry warmth radiated from the man all the way across the table. As though he could not help but be open and bright in her presence, the change in demeanor abrupt—almost like a flick of a switch.</p><p> </p><p>All due to Kate. Her brilliant, often silly, far too caring and stubborn daughter.</p><p> </p><p>Mary found this both mystifying and alarming.</p><p> </p><p>For all her years as her mother, Kate had never been so…</p><p> </p><p><em>In love</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Enraptured, really.</p><p> </p><p>Kate never bothered too much with dating. She had a couple of boyfriends in her life; all of which didn’t last longer than a few months nor did the relationships ever reach the point of parent introductions. She’d often joke of becoming a dog-lady, with her hoards of pups, and being the doting aunt to Edwina’s future children.</p><p> </p><p>But Mary knew better.</p><p> </p><p>She knew Kate wanted to eventually have a family and children. She saw the way Kate lit up at the sight of a family, a wistful yet smothered, incline of longing in her gaze. All throughout her daughter’s adolescence she’d witness the piles upon piles of romance novels and young adult fiction stacked on her bookshelves. All full of dalliances of love and pining Kate claimed to have never wanted of her own.</p><p> </p><p>Her eldest wanted to be in love, or at the very least have someone at her side through thick and thin. Lonely spirits with too much love to give were prone to quiet melancholies such as Kate’s.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>She’s</em> never looked like that,” Mary offered, conspiratorially. “I’ve never seen her so…”</p><p> </p><p>“Content?”</p><p> </p><p>“Herself.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can say the same for my son.” Violet took a small sip of her water. “I promised myself I wouldn’t meddle too much.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can imagine neither would be pleased,” Mary chuckled. Kate practically squawked that morning over tea at the mere mention of Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>“But they are honestly ridiculous,” Violet murmured. “I feel I have to do whatever I can in my power to at least shake some sense into them.” She tutted, smearing butter on to her muffin. “Or else I fear neither of them will ever make a move.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary did not know Anthony well, but she knew Kate. The girl kept her heart guarded, a valiant protector of herself and others. She would not bend so easily to the emotional turmoil and elation of love—least of all in less than a month’s time. It’d be ludicrous.</p><p> </p><p>Yet Mary had heard stranger things—had <em>done</em> stranger things herself. After all, she’d only dated her husband a total of two months before they decided to marry.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d say give them until the end of the month before you need to resort to desperate measures.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like you. I like you a lot.” Violet laughed, mischief in her eyes. “I am sure we will make fantastic in-laws one day.”</p><p> </p><p>One could only hope.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kate barely turned the corner to the library when she’d been abducted.</p><p> </p><p>A yelp soared out of her when a set of arms lifted her from behind. “What the hell—”</p><p> </p><p>Her captor nudged open a nearby door, Kate all but plopped down on the sheet covered sofa. Decades old dust puffed up at her weight. Coughing, Kate waved off the particles and squinted at group surrounding her.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict, Colin, and Gregory, all their months set in a determined line and none all too pleased. None of them spoke, merely sharing glances and looks.</p><p> </p><p>“Would anyone care to tell me why I was tossed in here?” she demanded, using her best school teacher voice—stern, commanding, and just a tad bit disappointed.</p><p> </p><p>Colin was the first to flinch, caving within seconds. “We need to know where you put the mallet.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>All eyes locked on her, stunned. “No?” Benedict echoed. “What do you mean ‘no’?”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean…” Her eyes narrowed on the three, pausing on Gregory for just a moment. She hadn’t expect Colin and Benedict to rope him into the mallet debacle, yet here he was, looking stubborn just like the rest. So much for having a little ally. “No. No means no. I am not going to tell you. You told me not to tell you. No matter what.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well that was before Anthony’s injury,” Benedict reasoned.</p><p> </p><p>“The croquet game has been moved to this evening. Before twilight,” Colin elaborated. “Permitting Anthony is improving and is up for the game.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict scoffed. “Anthony could have a mangled arm and he’d still find a way to play. A concussion is nothing to him in the grand scheme of field day.”</p><p> </p><p>“A concussion isn’t nothing to him. He seems to be taking this seriously,” Gregory reminded them.</p><p> </p><p>Both Benedict and Colin shushed him.</p><p> </p><p>The boy rolled his eyes, put out.</p><p> </p><p>“Our point is,” Colin began, “is that we are going to start setting up for the game and we need to account for all the mallets. Mallet of Death included.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Well why didn’t they just say so? “If that’s all…” She stood up, frowning at the heavy dust on her denim jeans. “Why the ambush?”</p><p> </p><p>“Eyes and ears are everywhere,” Benedict stated, on edge. “I think Anthony is planning to overrun this game. The red team is technically in the lead.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s planning this in his sleep then?” Kate joked. Last she checked—less than ten minutes ago—Anthony was asleep and spooning Newton.</p><p> </p><p>None of the boys laughed, all too serious. “Wouldn’t put it past him,” Benedict told her. “He’s a cheat through and through.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think you believe your brother is far more capable than he is at the moment. Which he is not.” Rolling her eyes, Kate marched out of the room, the younger Bridgerton men following.</p><p> </p><p>In companionable silence they snuck out of the house and hurried up and over the hill towards the recreational shed. The winds came in strong, the bushes and trees rustling. Kate hugged her sweater tighter as they came upon the shed.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait here,” she ordered the boys. Scanning the bushes, she stepped up to the shrub  she distinctly recalled tossing the blasted mallet into. Pushing around the leaves and branches, she dug around for the mallet.</p><p> </p><p>Only to reach the dirt ground with no mallet in sight.</p><p> </p><p>Her gut plummeted into the earth.</p><p> </p><p>No. No. No. This could not be happening.</p><p> </p><p>There. Was. No. Mallet. In. Sight.</p><p> </p><p>It was <em>gone</em>!</p><p> </p><p>“Shit,” she muttered, staring down into the bush. Frantic, Kate scrubbed at her eyes. Maybe she was seeing things—or rather <em>not</em> seeing things.</p><p> </p><p>Blinking rapidly, she stared back down into the greenery.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing. No Mallet.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn it, Kate. Damn it,” she hissed to herself, hands fisted at her side. “Where the hell could it have gone—”</p><p> </p><p>“Everything alright over there, Katherine?” Benedict called out, standing a few paces away with his brothers. “You got the mallet?”</p><p> </p><p>God, she had no choice but to tell the truth.</p><p> </p><p>Biting her lips together, she spun back around to face the boys. “You, uh, you see…” She crossed and uncrossed her arms, before placing her hands on her hips, trying to look determined. Like this situation wasn’t completely her fault—which it wasn’t considering she was coerced by Colin and Benedict to find the blasted black mallet in the first place!</p><p> </p><p>“You see boys…” Kate tried again.</p><p> </p><p>Gregory raised an eyebrows, pity shining in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Oh god, he already knew! The youngest Bridgerton man knew; this could not get worse.</p><p> </p><p>“The mallet is um, gone.” She gave a hapless shrug. “Just gone.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin and Benedict’s jaw dropped, utterly floored.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean ‘gone’?” Colin asked, perplexed by the statement.</p><p> </p><p>“Gone as in gone,” Kate said, waving to the empty bush. “As in it is no longer where I hid it and missing.”</p><p> </p><p>“How does a three foot mallet go missing?” Benedict marched right past his brothers to the bush in question. He searched for himself, practically ripping out leaves and branches in his haste. Coming up short, no mallet in hand, Benedict groaned. “Anthony is going to <em>really</em> kill us this time.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate winced. “No he won’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes he will,” all three brothers mumbled, in various stages of panic and fear.</p><p> </p><p>She was not going to stand for their moping. “The mallet couldn’t have gone far. I doubt it walked up and left or the weather swept it out from under the bush. It’d be impossible.”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you saying?” Gregory asked, following Kate’s logic. “That someone must have taken it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Precisely,” she nodded to him, “we have a thief on our hands.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like we weren’t already thieves,” Colin muttered, coming up to the bush for his own inspection. “Why would you even toss it in a shrub of all places?”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony was coming up the hill and I panicked,” Kate confessed, hoping her vague answer was enough to placid the boys. “I didn’t have time to find a fantastic hiding spot. I used what I had at my disposal.” She waved to the bush. “Which was this.”</p><p> </p><p>All three stared down at hiding spot, dejected.</p><p> </p><p>“Who do you think he’ll kill first?” Colin wrapped an arm around his brother’s neck, gangly leaning on him. “Me or you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Gregory,” Benedict muttered. “He’d go youngest to eldest.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like to remind everyone I was not involved in this scheme!” Gregory cried out, indignant. “I barely found out about an hour ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn, you’re right,” Colin murmured to Benedict, ignoring their younger brother. “Last to come into this world shall be the first to go out.”</p><p> </p><p>They needed to find a solution. Quickly. “Maybe we can take one of the other mallets and paint it black?” she suggested.</p><p> </p><p>The three Bridgertons stared at her aghast.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony would know,” Colin breathed.</p><p> </p><p>“He’d know almost immediately,” Benedict added.</p><p> </p><p>“The black mallet was part of our original set,” Colin explained, speaking to her as though she were a toddler. “It’s heavier than all the other mallets. <em>He’d know</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then what else are we supposed to—”</p><p> </p><p>“Looking for something!”</p><p> </p><p>All four whipped around to the new voice.</p><p> </p><p>Standing further down the hill was Francesca, her bright blue eyes shining in positive malevolence. However her determined stare was only second to her horrifying presence.</p><p> </p><p>Because in her hand was the black mallet!</p><p> </p><p>Walking up to the four, she swung the mallet back and forth. Each swing matched the clomp of her combat boots, her own steady metronome.</p><p> </p><p>She came to a stop a few feet away from them, both hands gripping the mallet like an axe.</p><p> </p><p>“I found this in the bushes on my daily hike,” Francesca stated, matter-of-fact. “I am aware it is Anthony’s favorite, lucky mallet. The one he intends to use for croquet this evening.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Benedict said, his voice leveled. “It is. Why do you have it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why were you looking for it?” she asked instead.</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you care?” Colin interjected over Kate’s right shoulder. “You don’t even like croquet or the field games. You think they’re stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca stared at them, undaunted by the remark. “I never said the field games were stupid. I enjoy them even if I don’t necessarily want to participate.” She glanced back down to the mallet then to her brothers. “However I like to win. And this mallet will bring the red team victory.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyes narrowed. If Francesca did not care for the games, even if she did like winning, why was she even showing them the mallet? If she truly cared about winning, then she wouldn’t have shown them the mallet in the first place. She’d keep it safe until the game.</p><p> </p><p>But Francesca was taunting them. On purpose. With reason.</p><p> </p><p>“What do want?” Kate asked.</p><p> </p><p>The girl’s eyebrows shot up. “Who says I want anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want?” Kate repeated, knowing the game Francesca was playing. “Clearly you want something from us. I am simply confused as to what.”</p><p> </p><p>Lips pursed tightly, her sharp eyes darted to each of their faces. “I’ll give you back the mallet <em>if</em>…you four convince Anthony to let me invite my boyfriend and best friend to Aubrey Hall.”</p><p> </p><p>A stunned silence followed.</p><p> </p><p>Then—</p><p> </p><p>“You have a boyfriend?” Benedict howled. “Since <em>when</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Franny likes men?” Gregory muttered.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony would never let John and Michael step foot on Aubrey Hall as long as he lives,” Colin said, clearly knowing who exactly Francesca was talking about. “You know that.”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca gave an impish shrug. “Then I guess I’ll tell Anthony you four stole his lucky mallet or better yet…” She marched over to the lake, mallet dangling over the water. “I’ll just drop the mallet in the lake with its brother’s and sister’s.”</p><p> </p><p>The boys around Kate tensed, the three too afraid to move.</p><p> </p><p>Kate, on the other hand, knew she had to make a negotiation here. “Did Anthony already deny your invite request?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Francesca said, eyes on the mallet rather than Kate. “A few weeks back. He said ‘no boys’.” She sounded beyond exasperated. “But it’s not fair. Almost everyone gets to have their friend or significant other here and I don’t. I’ve been dating John for two years. He should be able to come without getting kicked out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, is John the one you tried to sneak into the house last year?” Benedict asked, attempting to put together the pieces.</p><p> </p><p>The pink hue on her cheeks was their answer.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right.” Kate validated Francesca’s reasoning, because the girl <em>was</em> right. If she’d been seeing this boy for so long, and the other her best friend, then it made sense for her to have the right to invite them. At least it did in Kate’s eyes. “You should invite them,” sparing a glance to the boys, Kate stepped closer to Francesca, dropping her voice, “and besides, Anthony said he wants to try to get to know you better and spend more time with you.” Kate hadn’t been there for all of Franny’s shift the previous night, but she was there for part of <em>that</em> conversation. Anthony wanted to try to be better with Francesca, still guilty for often forgetting about her. “Meeting your boyfriend, in an appropriate setting, and your best friend I think is another good step.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s why I think you can convince him,” Francesca stated plainly. “Convince him or the mallet swims.” She swung said mallet for good measure.</p><p> </p><p>Biting her lips together, Kate knew she was going to hell for her actions. She turned to the boys. “Make sure that mallet stays above water! I’ll be back.”</p><p> </p><p>She dashed down the hill before anyone could stop her.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anthony flinched at the light flooding his room.</p><p> </p><p>“Close the door,” he mumbled into his pillow, burying himself deeper under the covers. “I’m sleeping.”</p><p> </p><p>He was taking another nap. The noisy chatter during lunch brought on a headache. Once he finished eating, he was quick to excuse himself and hide away in the darkness of his bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>The other side of the bed dipped. He felt the familiar shift of weight before a hand snatched the duvet off his head.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s captivating brown eyes and sweet, gentle smile greeted him.</p><p> </p><p>He must have been dreaming. That must have been it. Because Kate wouldn’t be bothering him at this time—she’d be busy with her mother, or her sister, or his siblings. Not sitting beside him in bed, giving him a smile he wanted to kiss right off her.</p><p> </p><p>“So I have been thinking—”</p><p> </p><p>God, she was actually there. It wasn’t one of his dreams.</p><p> </p><p>Damn it.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Why</em>?” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. He smothered half his face deeper into his pillow.</p><p> </p><p>She ignored the question. “You know how you want to bond more with Francesca…”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes narrowed. Why on earth were they talking about <em>Franny</em> of all people?</p><p> </p><p>“Yes…” He drawled out, throat heavy with lingering sleep.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I was thinking—”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve established this,” he murmured. His eyelids weighed heavy, drooping down.</p><p> </p><p>She swatted at his arm. “As I was saying, I was thinking maybe she’d open up more if she had a friend here. Or her boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s face pinched. He vaguely recalled John Stirling. Nice boy. Well, nice-<em>ish</em>. Francesca tried to sneak him into Aubrey Hall last summer in the middle of the night. Anthony swiftly caught him and kicked the insolent sod out. He wasn’t going to have any unsavory shenanigans under his roof when it came to his little sister. None what so ever. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because…because she deserves to have a friend here. Everyone has a friend or spouse here. Even Edwina does and she’s not even a Bridgerton,” Kate added with gusto. Far too loud and too bright of gusto—wasn’t she the one who wanted him to rest the most?</p><p> </p><p>God, his head was starting to pound, the tension headache forming at the thought of dealing with Francesca and boys…</p><p> </p><p>Kate blinked down at him, waiting for answer. Eyes too big, lips too full, her skin all too enchanting.</p><p> </p><p>In the haze of sleep, he could feel his body longing for her. <em>Desiring</em> her.</p><p> </p><p>This was not good.</p><p> </p><p>How he could sleep beside her for an entire night and not have an incident was beyond him. Yet now, in the afternoon glow…</p><p> </p><p>“If I say yes, will you leave me alone,” he muttered, throwing the duvet back over his head. He needed her gone. <em>Now</em>. “I want to sleep. I have a game to rest for.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Kate agreed. “I will let you be until game time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. They can come or whatever. But no funny…” He trailed off into a yawn.</p><p> </p><p>What was he saying? He couldn’t remember what they were talking about…</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, will do!” she patted his arm hurriedly, before scrambling off the bed and out the door once more.</p><p> </p><p>Lifting his duvet ever so slightly, Anthony stared at where she sat moments ago.</p><p> </p><p>That was…odd. But he did not have the mind to question on the matter further, choosing to close his eyes, praying for restful sleep and no dreams of <em>Kate</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“He said ‘yes’!” Kate shouted as she came up the hill top. “He said ‘yes’, Francesca!”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” The girl’s head wiped around, eyes wide in shock. “<em>He did</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Kate huffed and puffed, out of breath. She stopped in front of Francesca, palms open. “Mallet, please!”</p><p> </p><p>The three Bridgerton men were in just as much shock.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>How</em>?” Benedict asked, far too curious by these turn of events. “Anthony isn’t easily swayed—”</p><p> </p><p>“Unless she used her feminine wiles on him.” Colin’s eyebrows danced up and down. “Come on, you can tell us if you did Kate. We’re all family here.”</p><p> </p><p>Gregory and Benedict elbowed him, Colin wincing at impact.</p><p> </p><p>Kate was undeterred by the questions, more than a bit proud of herself. “I asked.”</p><p> </p><p>This time even Francesca looked at her dumbfounded. “You just asked him to let John and Michael come over?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I didn’t say it like that,” Kate corrected, hands still out and waiting for <em>her</em> mallet. “But I listed out the reasoning, and your brother being logical—”</p><p> </p><p>Both Francesca and Colin snorted at this.</p><p> </p><p>“—he understood my perspective and agreed.” She opened and closed her hands to Francesca once more. “My mallet, please.”</p><p> </p><p>“And he <em>listened</em>?” Benedict blinked rapidly, wildly amused yet confused on the matter.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Honestly, this was getting ridiculous. “I know he can be insufferable and unbelievably argumentative, but in his current state he is much more prone to ‘yes’ and ‘no’ answers rather than long winded questioning.”</p><p> </p><p>Without waiting any longer, Francesca passed over the mallet to Kate.</p><p> </p><p>“You are my new favorite,” the girl declared. “Don’t tell Eloise.”</p><p> </p><p>“Boys, we got our mallet of death!” Colin whooped, throwing a fist in the air.</p><p> </p><p>The three men looped their arms around each other’s necks, jumping up and down, chanting, “<em>Mallet of death</em>! <em>Mallet of death</em>! <em>Mallet of death</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca sighed, turning to Kate. “Thanks for convincing Anthony. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to who isn’t…” Her listless eyes trailed over to her whooping and bumbling brothers. “…someone who <em>isn’t</em> a Bridgerton.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate swung the mallet on to her shoulder, giving a small shrug. “Happy to help if it means the mallet is mine.”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca smirked. “I swear, you are more Bridgerton than some of my siblings. We <em>must</em> keep you.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate cocked her head to the side, baffled by the sentiment. Another Bridgerton claiming they needed to ‘keep her,’ and from Francesca of all people.</p><p> </p><p>She was not sure if she should be flattered or…well, she wasn’t too sure what the other option would be. Perhaps ‘stunned,’ because the Bridgertons had grown attached to her in a way Kate had never anticipated.</p><p> </p><p>Claiming her as their own, as if she were family.</p><p> </p><p>And the funny thing was Kate had grown attached to them as well. More than she expected. Maybe this was a sign she met her people, that she made a dear life long friend out of Anthony and his family.</p><p> </p><p>Having Anthony as her friend for the rest of her life sounded ridiculous.</p><p> </p><p>Yet oddly enough, the thought did not scare her.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You look spry and chipper this evening!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony didn’t cave into his usual wince at Colin’s crow of delight. Instead, he smirked. Bold and devilishly, prepared to own the night with a winning. He wasn’t going to let a damn <em>mild</em> concussion stop him taking his rightful place on the field.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I am. I have people to crush in croquet,” he spat.</p><p> </p><p>He bypassed Colin in the kitchen and out to the patio where platters of appetizers and nibbles were spread out. Several of his siblings milled about, the sun still sitting high enough on the hill to cast warmth and light upon their gathering. With the sheer amount of guests staying at Aubrey Hall, for the first time in a long time, Anthony wasn’t surprised to find his mother setting the evening out like a party, with mingling,  drinks, and music.</p><p> </p><p>Music from Benedict’s phone connected to an aux cord, but mood setting music all the same.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony plucked a cut of cheese from a tray, turning to his brother. “Anything I missed today?” he asked Colin, amending his statement a second later. “Anything <em>noteworthy</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin feigned thought before shaking his head, resolute. “No much. Nothing really. Except for the fact you approved of Francesca’s guests.”</p><p> </p><p>Mid-chew, Anthony froze. “I did <em>what</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Approved Francesca’s guests,” Colin uttered out slowly. “Kate talked to you…?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate didn’t…</p><p> </p><p>Oh no.</p><p> </p><p>Oh god, <em>no</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The memory came back to him at a startling speed—Kate bothering him while he’d been trying to sleep, he believing for a fleeting second he’d been dreaming. She asked him something about Francesca, but he hadn’t been paying close attention. He’d been far too distracted by Kate and the grogginess of interrupted slumber to comprehend the gravity of her question.</p><p> </p><p>He just wanted her gone before he made a fool of himself.</p><p> </p><p>Never the matter, he could not go back on his word. Francesca would never forgive him if he did so.</p><p> </p><p>Scanning the yard, Anthony spotted Kate with Edwina and Josie, caught in deep conversation. Her dark curls—curls he twisted around his finger and untwisted over and over the night before as she slept against his side—were pulled back in a neat, low bun. He had half the mind to join her, or pull her into a sway-like dance, knowing she’d stomp on his foot without even trying. He’d brace the brunt of a thousand more injuries if it meant she was back in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>A betraying thought, truly. He couldn’t be thinking of Kate in such a manner. She was his friend. And he needed her to remain so, despite his longing. He needed her to remain his friend because he could not entertain anything deeper. He simply could not.</p><p> </p><p>Fighting the urge to be by her side, Anthony decided to focus on more pressing matters.</p><p> </p><p>“If anyone asks, I went on a walk for some fresh air.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re outside,” Colin mumbled, mouth full with of mozzarella. “Why would you need more fresh air when you are already getting it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you please just do as I ask?” Anthony muttered, stepping away to taking his leave. “I’ll meet you all on the field at game time.”</p><p> </p><p>His brother’s half salute gave Anthony enough encouragement that Colin would follow through. With practiced ease he slipped away from the gathering and began his trek up to the recreational shed.</p><p> </p><p>With each passing step anticipation swell within him. His mallet would soon be in his possession and his luck shall make a turn for the better. It had to! His team would win with his winning shot, his mallet the true and only victor in the game of croquet.</p><p> </p><p>Upon reaching the shed, he swung open the doors and grabbed a step ladder. He climbed up, looking up to the beam where he taped up his mallet—</p><p> </p><p>Except there was no mallet.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s jaw locked. Hands tightened on the step ladder, he trying his best to no scream, curse, or knock down the nearest bin in sight.</p><p> </p><p>His mallet was <em>gone</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Not just gone—someone stole his mallet.</p><p> </p><p>He was going to <em>kill</em> them.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In Anthony’s eyes, only three people could had snatched the mallet—</p><p> </p><p>Benedict, Colin, and Simon.</p><p> </p><p>All three were, unfortunately, on the same team and all with good reason to vex him.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict as team captain, wanted to crush him. He taking the mallet was, to a degree, understandable.</p><p> </p><p>Colin, while now talking to him one-on-one again after their little argument about his romantic relationship with a certain family friend, was still trying to make his life a living hell—more so than usual. Colin taking the mallet was almost expected, but he wasn’t too sure his brother was willing to risk in own life in such a manner.</p><p> </p><p>Now Simon was upset with him<em>—“You are a fantastic brother, but a shit friend.”</em>—and while Anthony could not blame him, he also wouldn’t put it past his brother-in-law to stoop to such lows and put field day in the middle of their impasse. Simon, arguably, did know him best out of the three.</p><p> </p><p>Yet when he stalked up to the field, none of the men were swinging around a black mallet with mettlesome pride.</p><p> </p><p>Simon and Colin possessed croquet mallets, orange and yellow respectively.</p><p> </p><p>“Look who has decided to join us,” Colin announced, only half the family bothering to glance their way. Since there were only (technically) seven croquet mallets in their ‘set’ not everyone on each team could play. The three ‘best’—more so willing and most competitive of the bunch—were to play. “How was your walk brother?” Colin asked, cheeky. “Not as refreshing as you’d hope?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s eyes narrowed on him. “What did you do?” he hissed, stepping toe to toe with Colin.</p><p> </p><p>His brother merely laughed, nudging his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I</em> did nothing.” He glanced down the field. “Someone else on the other hand…”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s head snapped in the direction Colin was staring. The rest of the croquet party was waiting idly, swinging their mallets to and fro. Edwina, Daphne and—</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, bloody hell,” Anthony swore, eyes zeroing in on Kate. “She’s got the mallet of death.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I KNOW I AM EVIL FOR CUTTING IT OFF RIGHT THERE. ESPECIALLY SINCE I KEEP ON PUSHING OFF PALL MALL. But my god, it is a difficult hype to live up to! Gotta make sure it has it's time to flourish and shine. </p><p>I PROMISE NEXT CHAPTER IS PALL MALL AND ALL THE SEXUAL TENSION AND COMPETATIVENESS BETWEEN KATE AND ANTHONY. I PROMISE. </p><p>Also...I FINISHED FRANCESCA'S BOOK. I have to say I am proud of how I portrayed her without really knowing anything about her 😂 And while the Stirlings will have an appearance, they are no means main characters in this story (sorry!) HOWEVER...I am reading a couple of the younger characters books right now and don't be surprised if a sequel pops up focusing a bit more on them while of course, also being about Kate and Anthony (I LOVE THEM TOO MUCH TO EVER LET THEM GO.)</p><p>RANDOM BIT: Here are some other songs I've been listening to while writing this fic...<br/>- She's Got You High by Mumm-ra<br/>- Break My Heart by Dua Lipa<br/>- Be Kind by Halsey and Marshmellow<br/>- Dancing with a Stranger by Vitamin String Quartet<br/>- New Rules by Vitamin String Quartet (Do I often imagine/listen to this song when I read Kate and Anthony dancing in the beginning of TVWLM? WHY YES. THERE IS NO OTHER SONG I WILL ACCEPT BRIDGERTON, lol.)</p><p>If y'all want I can make a Spotify playlist for this fic! Let know if that's something you'd be into in the comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Bridgerton Family Field Day ~ Day 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A tad earlier update, also a bit longer. Btw, next update might be around Wed/Thurs!</p><p>Slowly replying to comments! Please know I appreciate every single one and intend to reply to as many as I can! :) Love discussing the fic with all of you!</p><p>Typos will be fix later! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“That’s my mallet!” Anthony plowed down the lawn to Kate.</p><p> </p><p>Upon him reaching her, she inspected the mallet. “Doesn’t have your name on it.”</p><p> </p><p>His scowl deepened. “Still my mallet.” Stepping up to her, he dropped his voice, annoyed with his siblings curious—<em>intrusive</em>—stares. “I hid it. How did you even find it?” he spat.</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t matter how,” Kate tutted. “All that matters is I <em>did</em> find it and I have every intention to use the Mallet of Death.” Giving a wicked grin, she did a test swing. “I can feel it’s lucky energy seeping into my bones.”</p><p> </p><p>That was <em>his</em> luck that was supposed to be seeping into <em>his</em> bones! Not hers!</p><p> </p><p>With his hands on his hips, Anthony turned to Colin, eyebrows raised. “Care to tell me which mallet I am to use since this menace,” Kate rolled her eyes at the term, “decided to snatch mine for her own merry pleasure?”</p><p> </p><p>“This one.” Daphne held out the pink mallet, wicked delight in her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>His blood boiled.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m pink and <em>she,” </em>he gestured to Kate, “gets the mallet of death?”</p><p> </p><p>Colin shrugged. “What is it that you often said in our youth…” He hummed, perking after a beat. “Oh yes—‘finders keepers losers weepers.’ She found the mallet, Anthony. An accomplishment in of itself.”</p><p> </p><p>Biting the inside of his cheek, Anthony turned to Benedict, who was watching the entire exchange in bursting mirth. “As a team captain, do you have any thoughts on this?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict shrugged, grinning smugly. “As you know, finders keepers.”</p><p> </p><p>In a fleeting second Anthony considered murder—his mother wouldn’t be too disappointed, would she? If he sought out to kill his brothers, she’s at least still have the girls and Gregory. Plenty of Bridgertons to keep her company.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have something against pink?” Kate cut in before Anthony could launch himself at his brothers. “Because<em> I</em> find it to be an extremely masculine color.”</p><p> </p><p>His family watched him expectantly, waiting for his answer.</p><p> </p><p>She was a clever one, slipping into the argument and pulling that question. The damn woman was going to be the death of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing is wrong with pink.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then there should be no problem.”</p><p> </p><p>“The problem,” he faced her fully once more, “is you took my mallet and you expect me to use an inferior one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now, now,” Colin interjected, stepping up to the two. “We can solve this pink mallet fiasco if we can locate the purple mallet’s ball.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony and Kate’s eyes snapped to each other.</p><p> </p><p>Neither had uttered a word of the purple ball’s fate at the bottom of the lake. And neither would if Anthony had anything to do about it.</p><p> </p><p>Kate dropped her gaze back to her mallet, shrugging. An attempt to be nonchalant. “Such, uh, a pity that purple ball,” she muttered. “Wonder where it could have gone.”</p><p> </p><p>“I, too, wonder,” Anthony gritted out, refraining his own sadistic chuckle from slipping out.</p><p> </p><p>A rosy tinge smattered her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>His chest swelled at the sight.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be pink,” Anthony announced, grabbing the offending mallet from Daphne, “and I’ll still win. Lucky mallet or not. Let’s begin, shall we?”</p><p> </p><p>The croquet players broke off into their teams and made their way to the beginning of the course. A few shouts and yelps from their teammates sounded from the sidelines, yet Anthony continued to scowl.</p><p> </p><p>Croquet was not a kind sport. It was meant to be played to win and he wasn’t going to let Kate and her antics get in the way.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne came to stand beside him, a little hop on her step.</p><p> </p><p>“Remind me why I picked you to play again?” Anthony asked, twisting the mallet in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Because I am the better player out of our sisters,” Daphne said matter-of-fact. “Why else?”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Anthony muttered, “then remember who’s team you are on instead of caving into the other team’s antics.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne scoffed, turning away for him favor of speaking to Edwina. “He’s always like this when it comes to croquet. Don’t take any offense to anything that may slip out of his mouth.” She paused, pondering her words. “Actually, don’t take any offense of what may slip out of anyone’s mouths.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dually noted,” Edwina assured her. She rest the end of her blue mallet on her shoe. “If field day has taught me anything, it is you are a competitive family.”</p><p> </p><p>“That we are,” Anthony agreed whole-heartedly.</p><p> </p><p>“We will be playing oldest to youngest!” Benedict called out, taking the reins from Colin in being referee. “Want to take the lead brother?” His cheekiness was not welcomed.</p><p> </p><p>“I believed the title of eldest goes to Simon,” Anthony shot back, “how old are you again, you geezer?”</p><p> </p><p>Further down the line, Simon turned towards him, a rueful smile on his lips. “Only a few months older than you,” he said, stepping up to take a swing. “At least I haven’t started going gray!”</p><p> </p><p>A chorus of shouts and yelps at the remark soared in tandem of Simon’s swing. His orange ball rolled across the lawn.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony swallowed a growl, pursing his lips into a deep frown as he stepped up after Simon for his own swing.</p><p> </p><p>“Good hit, Simon!” Daphne cheered.</p><p> </p><p>She was immediately shushed by her brothers on the field.</p><p> </p><p>“No cheering!” Colin cried out. “There is no cheering for the opposite team! We’ve gone over this!”</p><p> </p><p>“I will cheer for whom ever I want to cheer for!” His sister looked ready to stop her foot like a child.</p><p> </p><p>“Go, Anthony!” Colin ordered. “Before Daphne starts her cheering again!”</p><p> </p><p>Staring at the fiendish pink ball in disdain, he gave it a good whack. The ball soared across the grass, bypassing a wicket, before slamming against a tree and rolled between the uprooting branches.</p><p> </p><p>A groan sounded from the crowd.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn it,” Anthony cursed under his breath. “Damn tree.” He stalked over to his ball. “Who set this course?” he called out as Colin took his swing. The yellow ball rolled past the first wicket with ease.</p><p> </p><p>“Daphne and I!” Colin answered cheerily, following his ball. “Got a problem with it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Plenty,” Anthony grumbled to himself. The course was an utter mess, wicket’s laid out in chaotic snake-like twists. They were purposely trying to make this game a living hell.</p><p> </p><p>Next up was Kate.</p><p> </p><p>All of Anthony’s attention landed on her, eyes dead set on her form.</p><p> </p><p>Not terrible. She remembered his suggestions—feet shoulder length apart, using the force of her forearms rather than the weight of the mallet. If only he knew she’d steal <em>his</em> mallet, then he wouldn’t have utter a word of advice to her. He’d rather watch her struggle and huff and puff like a puffer fish than witness her win with his mallet. It was much more fun to see her lose her cool than not.</p><p> </p><p>With a echoing crack, her mallet met the ball.</p><p> </p><p>It sailed through with impressive speed and arc, only to smack right into the same tree as Anthony’s.</p><p> </p><p>Her black ball rolled to a stop beside his pink.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, this was <em>good</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Just his luck. Perhaps the mallet still favored him while not being in his possession.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh dear,” Daphne said, looking out to the neighboring balls.</p><p> </p><p>“Why ‘oh dear’?” Kate asked beginning her trek to her ball.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll see.” Daphne took her swing, following after her ball before it stopped it’s rolling.</p><p> </p><p>Kate soon joined him, mallet swinging beside her.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony leaned against the tree, a smirk pulling on his lips at the sight of her disgruntled frown. “Hello, dear Kate.” He swung his mallet up, catching it before it fell to the ground. “How’s the game treating you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just fine,” she gritted out. “You?”</p><p> </p><p>“Spectacular.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can tell,” she nodded to his ball, “pink apparently does suit you.”</p><p> </p><p>His smirk slipped right off. “How’s the weight of the Mallet of Death, hmm? Not crushing under its pressure now are you?” Pushing himself the tree, he stepped up to her. “I named it, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Her eyes widened, mocking him.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” He knocked his mallet against hers, her mouth twitching at the gesture. “Do you know why I gave it the name ‘Mallet of Death’?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you are a fiendish man with an ego the size of this estate?” she taunted haughtily.</p><p> </p><p>“Because I <em>kill</em> all in my path when it’s in my possession,” he said plainly.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not in your possession,” she snidely reminded him. “It’s <em>mine</em> now.”</p><p> </p><p>“But it knows it’s true owner and where it’s loyalties belong.”</p><p> </p><p>A scoff bubbled out of her, turning into a gleeful chuckle. “I highly doubt that.”</p><p> </p><p>He was close enough to see how twilight danced along her face, the last bit of warmth from the day gracing her with its presence. Close enough to brush away the wayward curl dangling by her right eye. Close enough to lean in and…</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony, you’re turn!”</p><p> </p><p>He planted a steady foot on his ball. “One day Kate you too shall be phenomenal at croquet,” she stepped back as he raised his mallet in the air, “but today is not that day!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What are you doing</em>?” Kate screeched.</p><p> </p><p>In a flourish the deed was done. Her ball went soaring through the air, further than he or anyone could have anticipated, and landed on the opposite side of the hill. Practically <em>miles</em> away.</p><p> </p><p>“You asshole!”</p><p> </p><p>“All’s fair in love and war,” he quipped. He edged out of her reach before her free hand could swat at him.</p><p> </p><p>Landing one decent shove on his chest, she marched after her ball, a string of curses falling from her lips.</p><p> </p><p>A few paces away she spun back around to face him, walking backwards and the black mallet in clenched hands. “I am going to kill you!” Kate called out, absolutely wild in the eyes. “This mallet is going to have a new reason for its name!”</p><p> </p><p>A slither of fear ran through him, however his absolute thrill of her anger consumed him far better than anything else.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anthony was winning.</p><p> </p><p>By a lot.</p><p> </p><p>A lot. A lot.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t joking when he claimed to be the best player.</p><p> </p><p>And Kate…</p><p> </p><p>Well, she was two wickets behind the next-to-last player. In other words, losing. Beyond losing. She was in the pits of hell and never returning level of loser-dom.</p><p> </p><p>All because Anthony had to be a competitive dickhead and knock her ball out of the course and into the damn hedge of all things. Kate thought she’d at least have a chance to wipe that obnoxious, grumpy smirk off his face. Instead she was so far off from the action of the field, she only had herself and her mallet for entertainment.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you were supposed to be lucky.” She kicked the head of her mallet. “All you’ve done is humiliate me and make me trek into uncharted greenery, you blasted mallet.”</p><p> </p><p>Just as she was half tempted to break the mallet against the closest tree, Anthony let out an irritate bellow.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Heads</em>!” a voice called out from the main field.</p><p> </p><p>Kate ducked in time as a pink ball dropped at her feet with a thud. Due to the light slope of the ground, the ball rolled back, stopping beside her black ball.</p><p> </p><p>Whoops and hollers came from further up the hill, Kate spotting Colin leaping in delight. “<em>We got him!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>The <em>him</em> in question came stomping down the hill to their kissing croquet balls.</p><p> </p><p>“Karma’s a bitch isn’t it?” Kate said in greeting.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stopped a few feet away from her, glaring.</p><p> </p><p>“You could still win,” Kate began to reason, swinging her mallet in thought, “maybe second. Or third.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” he grumbled.</p><p> </p><p>Examining their balls, then the hill, she winced. “Maybe fourth. Simon did travel up in the ranks pretty fast.”</p><p> </p><p>His jaw tightened, inching closer to her. “You know what Kate? We are both going to lose,” he proclaimed, thoroughly put out. Swinging his mallet up, he rest it on his shoulder. “Perhaps you more than me. But losers nonetheless.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re point?” she droned, unpleased with the reminder.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s make this more interesting for us,” Anthony declared, “let’s make a wager.”</p><p> </p><p>“A wager?” Kate echoed, intrigued. “What could you possibly want to wager?”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugged, mulling over the idea. “Whoever loses has to take a dare from the winner.”</p><p> </p><p>“The loser being the person who loses worse in this game, correct?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he nodded once, grim. Yet there was a spark of revel in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“A dare?” She needed to know the parameters; these agreements must not be taken lightly. “Any dare?”</p><p> </p><p>“Any dare,” he confirmed. “As vague or specific as you want to be.”</p><p> </p><p>“That does sound like it could be interesting…”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Kate, it’s your turn</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Decisions, decisions…” She murmured, tapping her chin. Not only was she considering Anthony’s little wager to amp the game for them two, but how to take her next shot. Her options were limited this far out and by the looks of it, even if she did make a wager, there was still a slim possibility of beating of Anthony with a quarter of the game left. By the time his last few turns rolled around, he could very well climb back to the top of the leader board. He was that good and that obnoxious—she didn’t trust his judgement on them both being ‘losers.’</p><p> </p><p>She’d have to take the dare.</p><p> </p><p>He was setting her up for failure.</p><p> </p><p>Setting her up for failure and hoping she didn’t notice.</p><p> </p><p>Since this was the case, she had no choice but to sabotage him.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll take your wager,” Kate announced, stepping up to her ball. “But just know I’ll need by the end of the night to form a proper dare for you.”</p><p> </p><p>He chortled, resting his mallet behind his shoulders. “You think you’ll beat me?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know about that,” she hummed, setting up beside her ball. She angled herself just so, her shot perfectly lining up to hit his ball. “But I do know if I am going to lose spectacularly so I am going to drag you down with me.”</p><p> </p><p>Catching on to her stance, Anthony waivered. “You don’t want to do this, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“But don’t I?” An evil grin formed on her lips. She relished at the dreadful, angry fear in Anthony’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate—”</p><p> </p><p>With great force, she swung her mallet back and hit the ball with all her might.</p><p> </p><p>The pink ball hurtled through the air at a remarkable speed.</p><p> </p><p>Soaring, really.</p><p> </p><p>Further and further until—</p><p> </p><p>A distinct <em>plop! </em>and splash resounded from the lake.</p><p> </p><p>Both their heads whipped up, stunned.</p><p> </p><p>She…she actually hit his ball! <em>And into the lake</em>!</p><p> </p><p>Jaw-dropped in utter amazement, a crazy cackle of disbelief came from Kate. “Did—did I—” Consumed with undeniable glee, she squealed, jumping up and down. “Yes! Yes! <em>I won</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t win,” Anthony snapped, absolutely seething. “You did the furthest thing from winning!”</p><p> </p><p>“By god, it feels like I won,” she proclaimed, hugging the mallet to her chest. “I take back every foul thought and word I have ever had about you Mallet of Death!”</p><p> </p><p>“You insulted her?” he crowed, eyes ablaze. “No wonder she gave you hell!”</p><p> </p><p>“She is mine to insult!” she spat. “Forever mine!”</p><p> </p><p>A series of footsteps came running down the hill to them, Colin and Benedict at the lead.</p><p> </p><p>“That was brilliant, Kate!” Colin threw an arm around her, Benedict mirroring him on Kate’s left. “Dare I say this might be the most iconic, inspiring moment in Bridgerton Family Field Day history!”</p><p> </p><p>“The day Anthony’s ball sank into the lake by the hands of Kate!” Benedict sang out. “Has a nice rhyme to it—like a great epic!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Colin jeered. “The Bridgerton epic that shall be passed down from generation to generation!”</p><p> </p><p>All Anthony could do was cross his arms and scowl.</p><p> </p><p>“What is the verdict?” Daphne asked, a few of their siblings who followed them murmuring in agreement. “Who gets a point? Who wins? ”</p><p> </p><p>“Well is it not obvious?” Colin asked. “Kate wins!”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not how we play!” Anthony cried out.</p><p> </p><p>“Anyone who knows the true spirit of field day,” Benedict paused, grinning, “which is to destroy the most competitive Bridgerton of the bunch,” Anthony’s scowl deepened, “a that title now goes to you dear brother, is the winner!”</p><p> </p><p>Standing towards the back of the pack, Violet sighed. “So does this mean the win for croquet goes to the blue team?” she asked, as though afraid of the answer.</p><p> </p><p>Colin shared glances with his field co-conspirators, Daphne and Penelope. Both nodded, neither too terribly bothered by the outcome.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! Blue teams wins!”</p><p> </p><p>The roar of cheers from the blue team engulfed them. Jumping and hugging and squishing and squealing.</p><p> </p><p>Outside of the huddle, Anthony rolled his eyes and trekked towards the lake. Caught between Eloise and Colin, Kate watched him go, for some odd reason feeling a tad sorry for him. For what though, she wasn’t too sure.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“It’s getting too dark!” Violet reminded them over the delightful outcries. “Let’s clean up!”</p><p> </p><p>Parts of the group began to dissipate, off to clear the wickets and collect their respective balls from the course. Kate was quick to depart from the group, snatching up her ball and mallet. Spotting Anthony up ahead, she jogged after him.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” She huffed as she came to pace with him.</p><p> </p><p>He sent her another glare, pink mallet still clutched in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“No need to be a sore loser.” She rammed her shoulder into his; his glare remained. “What is that you said to me earlier? All’s fair in love and war?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not a sore loser,” he stated as they came to a stop by the lake. He passed off his mallet to her before crouching down to untie his shoes. “I merely expected to win and this evening did not turn out how I intended.”</p><p> </p><p>“You do know that is the definition of a sore loser.”</p><p> </p><p>“And no one likes a smart-ass,” he shot back. Shoes and socks off, he rolled up his denim trousers up his shin. He glanced over to the lake, the bright pink ball visible in the shallow end. Just a bit further was the purple ball, sitting prim and unbothered since their practice round the other night. “Might as well fish out the purple ball while I am at it. Don’t need anyone questioning it’s whereabouts again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is it cold?” she asked, he barely stepping into the water. She remained a couple of feet away from the bank, like she always did.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you like to find out?” he taunted back, suddenly enraptured with the idea of pulling Kate into the freezing water with him. She’d probably yelp and slap at his chest before falling into her own pits of laughter.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” she shook her head. “Believe it or not, I am not the strongest swimmer.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony paused, turning to her. “You don’t know how to swim?”</p><p> </p><p>“I know how,” she stressed. “My sister and I learned around the same time. I am just not a <em>great</em> swimmer.” she corrected. “There is a distinct difference.”</p><p> </p><p>“You were literally hanging above the lake the other night and you didn’t think to mention this?”</p><p> </p><p>Twirling her mallet side to side in her right hand, she shrugged. “I wasn’t too worried. You were there with me. I knew if I fell in you’d pull me right out.”</p><p> </p><p>His face softened. “You trust me that much?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked. “You’ve never given me a real reason not to trust you. In fact, you’ve given me plenty to put all my trust in you.” Her gaze didn’t waiver from his, however the flush returned to her cheeks. “Any luck with those balls?”</p><p> </p><p>He grabbed the pink from the shallow. “Here,” he tossed it up to shore, “there might be some towels in the shed.”</p><p> </p><p>She hurried off, catching his unspoken question.</p><p> </p><p>Wadding a couple of feet further into the lake, he snatched the damn purple ball and tossed it up with the pink. By the time he make his way back to the bank and gathered the balls, Kate came back with a towel in hand. They traded off belongings, Anthony taking the towel and drying his leg off. Once he put his socks and shoes back on, he and Kate began to walk back to the shed in companionable silence.</p><p> </p><p>The course had been cleared up, and most of the family was slowly trudging back to the house, Colin and Penelope lingering furthest in the back of the pack.</p><p> </p><p>Neither Anthony nor Kate made haste to join them.</p><p> </p><p>“I think for the next family field day there needs to be better rules set out,” Kate stated as they came upon the shed. “Such as not foiling the game for one’s partner. I am positive on more than one occasion Colin purposely failed for the sake of Penelope and don’t even get me started on Daphne and Simon.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony scoffed. “That’s what I tried to do!” he insisted. He held his hand out, Kate passing him the croquet balls. He placed them back into their right full spots in the set. “I thought separating the couples would cause less distractions.”</p><p> </p><p>“It caused more.”</p><p> </p><p>“You think I don’t know that,” he muttered. “I might have been better off having them on the same teams and dealing with the googly-eyes.” He paused, her words replaying in his mind. “Next family field day?”</p><p> </p><p>Leaning against the nearest shelf, Kate shrugged. “Yeah, the next one. Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Who says you’ll be at the next Bridgerton Family Field Day?” He clucked his tongue, turning to her. “Last time I checked, you aren’t a Bridgerton.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyebrows jumped, a coy smile on her lips. “Last time <em>I</em> checked, I became the champion of croquet—”</p><p> </p><p>“No one said you were the champion.”</p><p> </p><p>“—and it only makes sense I return next year to fight to keep my title,” she said, far too smug for her own good. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint the family.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, yes, disappoint the family,” he sighed dramatically. “It would be a travesty to not be subjected to the likes of their dear Katherine.” His teasing grin lessened a fraction. “But you really see yourself here next year?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate opened her mouth, but not a sound came out.</p><p> </p><p>She crossed her arms over her chest, a hand tugging at an errant curl. “It’s a nice thought.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Indeed it is very presumptuous of me to assume I’d come back next year—”</p><p> </p><p>“Presumptuous, but not absurd.”</p><p> </p><p>A smile budged at the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t give in, instead examining the mallets hanging on the wall. Anthony followed her gaze, only to frown a second later.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s the Mallet of Death?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hidden.”</p><p> </p><p>His head snapped to her. “What do you mean ‘hidden’?”</p><p> </p><p>Hands swinging to clasp behind her back, Kate shifted foot to foot. “Hidden. As in I hid it.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sputtered. “How? When—”</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t matter how, doesn’t matter when. All that matters is I hid it and if you want to use it next time, you’ll need to find it!” She spun on her heel, making her escape.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate!” Anthony dashed after her, shutting the shed doors behind him haphazardly.<br/>“Kate, you evil woman! You tell me where it is this instant!”</p><p> </p><p>Her cackles traveled down the hill, Anthony chasing after the sound.</p><p> </p><p>He caught up to her within moments, catching Kate around her middle and swiftly lifting her off her feet. Her giggles increased in tenfold, arms latching around his, holding him there.</p><p> </p><p>In a fleeting second he knew he’d chase her bouts of laughter all his life.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dinner was a lighthearted affair for most.</p><p> </p><p>But not for Daphne.</p><p> </p><p>Kate could see as much as the woman excused herself from the table. For the third time that evening.</p><p> </p><p>“Is Daff alright?” Francesca asked once her sister slipped out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>“I think she has a stomach bug,” Simon told his sister-in-law in earnest. “I think all the running around was a bit much for her.”</p><p> </p><p>Beside her Anthony paused. A flash of hesitation shone in his eyes before he resumed eating.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes met hers. Then darted to the door Daphne left through. Then to her again.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyes narrowed, she shaking her head just so.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s brows furrowed, nostrils flaring a tad. His eyes darted to the door again, tilting his head toward her. Imploring her.</p><p> </p><p>God, this man did not know how to not have his way.</p><p> </p><p>Setting down her fork, Kate stood up, excusing herself.</p><p> </p><p>Once outside the dinning room, she scanned the entryway, listening for where Daphne could have disappeared off to. The faint sound of retching from further in the house put Kate in motion. Within seconds she was at the tucked away powder room, the door locked shut.</p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t her place. She shouldn’t be the one checking in on Daphne. Her husband or sisters, or even her mother, should be the one’s at her side. Not Kate. Not her because Anthony was trying to be a good brother and keep a secret he had no business keeping and could not go after Daphne himself without creating suspicion.</p><p> </p><p>But she’d seen the look in Anthony’s eyes; he was concerned and felt helpless.</p><p> </p><p>Damn him.</p><p> </p><p>Kate knocked once. “Daphne?”</p><p> </p><p>All movement on the other side of the door halted. The faucet flicked on, echoing in through the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?” came Daphne’s quavering voice. “What do you need?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do…” Kate glanced around. They were pretty far off from the dinning room. No one would be able to hear them—unless that is, they stepped out of the boisterous room into the stillness of the house and heard Daphne as Kate did. But that did not seem likely. “Do <em>you</em> need anything?”</p><p> </p><p>Another pause. The faucet ran steadily. Then a flush of the toilet.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure—”</p><p> </p><p>The door swung open, Daphne looking worse for wear—eyes watering, shirt damp, and hair slipping from her once perfect bun—yet her poised smile remained.</p><p> </p><p>“I said I am fine,” Daphne repeated, swallowing tightly. “Nothing to concern yourself with Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>Biting her lips together, Kate nodded once. “Got it. Sorry to bother you.” She began to take her leave, but then she remembered Anthony’s concerned stare and how far Daphne pushed herself out on the field—“No, actually. I am not sorry to bother you,” Kate told her, keeping herself planted at the door. “I need to know if you are okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Standing taller, Daphne straightened her shirt. “Okay? I’m fine—”</p><p> </p><p>“‘Fine’ means nothing,” Kate cut in. “Especially when I can tell you are not.”</p><p> </p><p>The woman’s lips pursed, thoroughly annoyed with Kate’s presence. “I like you Kate. I think you and my brother are sweet,” Kate’s face soured at the term, “but don’t dig your nose where it does not belong—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you’re expecting.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne inhaled sharply.</p><p> </p><p>The once perfectly elegant woman’s face scrunched. “<em>Damn it, Anthony</em>,” she hissed, eyes shut. “He really cannot keep anything for you, can he?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate had half the mind to correct her. To tell her Anthony told her absolutely nothing and she found out about the pregnancy while hiding under his study desk during the dinner party the previous weekend, but she had a strong inkling explaining the truth would not go well with Daphne. At all.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Kate agreed, “he cannot. But I’m the same. So…”</p><p> </p><p>A huff escaped Daphne, she clutching the doorframe for dear life.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure you are okay?” Kate asked again, not liking how Daphne’s face began to crumple. “Daphne—”</p><p> </p><p>The woman came forward, practically crumpling into Kate.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s sisterly instincts kicked in, she wrapping her arms around Daphne, holding her close.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” Daphne hiccupped, her chin resting on Kate’s shoulder. “I am. Just morning sickness but…” A ragged sigh weighed down on her. “I’m so tired. Of hiding it. But...” She sniffed and swallowed, gasping for air. “But I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t know how to tell anyone besides Anthony. Because…” Her hands gripped at Kate, as though she were the only thinking keeping her up and level headed. “Because I am so excited and terrified.”</p><p> </p><p>Pulling away, Kate grasped for Daphne’s hands. She held them in hers, up in the space between them.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know you well,” Kate told her, knowing she needed to be honest. “And I have never been a mother or pregnant. Or married. Or have ever thought myself to be one day—”</p><p> </p><p>“Your point?” Daphne interjected, hands gripping tighter.</p><p> </p><p>“My point,” Kate met her blue gaze, “is I may not know you well, but I have been witness to you and your husband and your family. They love you. So much. Simon adores you, one would have to be blind to not see it.” Daphne chuckled a little. “And…sometimes we have to do scary things. Terrifying things we know might cause change in a way we never expect.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Daphne said though a watery chuckle, “this is all I ever wanted, but all at the wrong time.” She freed a hand, wiping under her eyes. “Simon never really liked the idea of children until me,” she confessed, “we planned to wait. Wait until our careers were more stable and…” She shook her head. “The idea of waiting just sounds absurd to me now!” She chuckled, fuller and less tearful.</p><p> </p><p>Releasing Kate’s hands, she turned back into the restroom, scrambling for tissues. She tried her best to clean her face, yet her eyes remained bloodshot. A price to pay for the tears.</p><p> </p><p>“Do I look alright?” Daphne asked, looking at Kate through the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>Kate nodded, remaining by the door.</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” Daphne opened a drawer at the sink’s vanity, plucking out a tube of concealer and mascara, “you have a natural maternal instinct.”</p><p> </p><p>She snorted, edging a little further into the restroom. “Do I?”</p><p> </p><p>“With all that advice,” she mused. “A very caring spirit if you will. I’ve also seen how you are with Hyacinth and Gregory.” She dabbed the concealer under her eyes, the tiredness she radiated slipping back under her carefully crafted mask of perfection. “They aren’t the easiest to get along with.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m a teacher,” Kate reminded her, “I work with teenagers all the time. Those two are no different.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne stared hard at her. “Can you not take a compliment?”</p><p> </p><p>A witty remark of deflection remained caught in Kate’s throat. “I—”</p><p> </p><p>The woman tutted, twisting open her mascara. “You are a lovely person, Kate. Someone who deserves to know how great they are.” The wand flicked expertly across her lashes, Daphne humming as she did the practice task. “And someone who should learn how to take her own advice.”</p><p> </p><p>Both concealer and mascara tucked away in the drawer once more, Daphne fixed her hair back in place before facing Kate once more.</p><p> </p><p>“Now let’s go. I believe I have an announcement to make.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shouldn’t you talk to Simon first—”</p><p> </p><p>Looping her arm through Kate’s, Daphne shook her head. “I need to say it. Now. No time to dally.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“What took you so long?” Anthony hissed the moment Kate returned to her seat.</p><p> </p><p>“Girl talk,” she muttered, picking back up her fork. However she didn’t resume eating, fiddling with the utensil. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”</p><p> </p><p>A scowl weighed on him. “I sent you—”</p><p> </p><p>“I went on my own volition,” she argued, trying to keep her tone light. “You told me <em>nothing</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t have to say anything,” he told her. “You knew.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Her reply was clipped. Annoyed.</p><p> </p><p>He blinked, unsure of what he did wrong.</p><p> </p><p>Kate kept glancing over to Daphne, who paid no mind to her. His sister chatted with those around her, looking fine. Better than the disgruntled disgust she left in.</p><p> </p><p>He kicked Kate’s foot. “Stop staring.”</p><p> </p><p>Her head snapped to him. “I’m not a child to scold.”</p><p> </p><p>He nudged her foot again.</p><p> </p><p>She kicked right back.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re <em>staring</em>,” he gritted out, low.</p><p> </p><p>“You stare at me all the time, and I don’t point it out.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony felt his mouth drop open.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t think she noticed.</p><p> </p><p>But clearly she <em>did</em>.</p><p> </p><p>His gut swooped—she must have known every instance. Every dart of the eyes. Every hesitant glance. All of them.</p><p> </p><p>On the other side of him, Colin snorted into his food.</p><p> </p><p>Both Kate and Anthony’s attention jumped to him, matching glares sent his way.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t mind me,” he mumbled, mouth full. “I am merely enjoying the show.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s blood pressure rose. “I am going to <em>kill</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>“I have an announcement.” Daphne shot up from her seat, garnering the entire tables attention in an instant.</p><p> </p><p>Beside her Simon’s face marred in confusion, his eyes sliding over the rest of siblings, looking for an answer. He then landed on Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>God, this could not be good.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne’s hand latched to Simon’s, she sending her husband an encouraging smile. She faced the rest of the table, glowing in excitement.</p><p> </p><p>“Simon and I are expecting. I’m pregnant!”</p><p> </p><p>A wine glass crashed to floor followed by a thump—<em>Simon fainted</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Several things happened in rapid succession at Simon’s fainting spell—</p><p> </p><p><em>Daphne was in near hysterics</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god!” Daphne yelped, dropping down to his side. “Simon!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony jumped to his feet at the commotion. He charged over to his best friend’s side in a few long strides. “Did he hit his head?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll clean up the glass!” Kate called out, dashing into the kitchen to procure a broom and dustpan. “No one step near it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Did anyone catch that on camera?” Colin asked, earning a swipe at the head from Penelope and bread roll tossed at his face from Eloise. Scowling, he lifted his own phone from his pocket, recording the uproar for himself.</p><p> </p><p>Violet was quick to try and calm Daphne down, only for the daughter to shrug her away. If Violet was offended, she hid it well.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile Mary checked on Simon. “He’s fine—he’s coming to,” she assured the family. However this did not stop Benedict, Gregory, Hyacinth or Eloise from joining the fray.</p><p> </p><p>The four remaining seated at the table—Francesca, Edwina, Josie, and Penelope—shared looks of concerns, but more so <em>exasperated</em> concern. As though they couldn’t have imagined anything else occurring over dinner. The Bridgertons, by birth and by name, were inherent melodramatic busybodies.</p><p> </p><p>Simon remained half slumped on the chair, where he had passed out, blinking blearily at the faces surrounding him.</p><p> </p><p>“Simon,” Daphne breathed out, ready to pepper his face with relieved kisses.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s give him room to breathe,” Mary encouraged, standing up and waving off the growing crowd of Bridgertons.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you alright?” Anthony asked, taking a knee beside his friend.</p><p> </p><p>Simon blinked a few more times, his head turning from Anthony to Daphne to Anthony once more.</p><p> </p><p>Then his eyes were ablaze.</p><p> </p><p>“You knew!”</p><p> </p><p><em>Simon wanted to kill Anthony</em>.</p><p> </p><p>With alarming speed for a man who’d just fainted, Simon’s hands fisted Anthony’s shirt.</p><p> </p><p>Fearful, Anthony grasped on to his brother-in-law’s forearms. He tried to pry the grip off, yet came to no avail. Shakily, he led them both to their feet, attempting to pull away from Simon’s hold as he did so. “Now, Simon—”</p><p> </p><p>“You knew about my child before me!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony knew his friend could be terrifying. He just never anticipated Simon to be keen on murder, yet his eyes screamed of a thousand ways he’d end Anthony’s life.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but—”</p><p> </p><p>“There is no ‘but’!” Simon cried out, near shaking Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>Fed up with the toe to toe they were at, especially in front of the family, Anthony shucked off Simon. “We are not going to discuss this now—”</p><p> </p><p>He barely slipped a few feet away before Simon went chasing after him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>A rather raging chase around the house commenced.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I am going to kill you Bridgerton!”</p><p> </p><p>Taking two steps at a time, Anthony practically flew up the stairs, Simon hot on his tail. “It wasn’t my fault she told me first!” he spat back. “Maybe if she knew you’d be excited about this—”</p><p> </p><p>A throw pillow from the landing’s bench was chucked at his head.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony ducked at the nick of time. “What the fuck was that!”</p><p> </p><p>“That was for digging your nose into our business! <em>Again</em>!” Simon grabbed another pillow, remaining put at the opening end of the upstairs corridor. He chucked it, landing a blow on Anthony’s shoulder. “And that is for not telling me—”</p><p> </p><p>“You were glad Daphne could confide in me!” Anthony yelled through his out of breath huffs. “What were you’re words—'You are a fantastic brother, but a shit friend’?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Simon’s own ragged breath echoed in the empty corridor, “back when I thought maybe it was something to do with work or one of your siblings! Not about my future child!”</p><p> </p><p>“It is not like I begged her to tell me!” he bellowed. “She just did! I was just the first person she called!” Simon stalked forward once more. Anthony’s feet scurried to carry him back, eyes locked on his friend’s imposing form. “I prefer not knowing any implications about my siblings sex lives, thank you very much!”</p><p> </p><p>Simon halted, eyes narrowed on Anthony. “You should have told me. Or tried to convince her to. You could have done something other than sit like a dick with the knowledge!”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t mine to tell,” Anthony grumbled, scrubbing at his face. “You have no idea how bad I’ve been wanting to say something—I care about both of you a lot. I even swore Kate to secrecy—”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate knew before me?”</p><p> </p><p><em>Fuck</em>. He was dead.</p><p> </p><p>He really was going to die at the hands of his brother-in-law on the very same soil his father and his father’s father did. Like a true Bridgerton.</p><p> </p><p>Eerie silence sat between them.</p><p> </p><p>Then step, by step, by step, Simon came to stand less than a foot away. “Anthony,” Simon began, the two meeting eye to eye, “I love you. You are my brother. You were my brother before Daphne was even in the picture. I cannot imagine my life without you. But for the love of god, worry about your own damn life.”</p><p> </p><p>The words hit like a fist to the jaw.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m her eldest brother.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you are,” Simon nodded once. “I knew what I was getting into when I married her. I wasn’t just gaining a wife, I was gaining seven siblings. As well as nosey, overprotective brother.” His face became grave, as though his next words were hurting him as much as they were going to wound Anthony. “But you know what else you are?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony didn’t say anything, for once keeping his mouth shut.</p><p> </p><p>“You are a man in his mid-thirties <em>so</em> consumed with his siblings lives you don’t even see what’s right in front of you.” Simon shook his head. “I will confess, I didn’t understand the Edwina thing—”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s nice.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know she is, but we aren’t talking about that,” Simon told him, clearly controlling the conversation. “We are talking about the fact you were going to propose to a woman you had no interest in—”</p><p> </p><p>“She’d make a nice wife and friend,” Anthony once again tried to justify his reasoning.</p><p> </p><p>Simon bypassed the remark. “—and are ignoring the fact the most bloody perfect woman for you has been here the entire time. Next door to you. Spending every waking minute with you. Falling in love with your family. Your family falling in love with her.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony chewed on the inside of his cheek. “If you are implying Kate—”</p><p> </p><p>“I am implying Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you are sorely mistaken,” he choked out, throat thick. God, why did he sound like death was at his door; pathetic. He was pathetic. Simon said just as much. “Kate is my friend. My dearest friend—”</p><p> </p><p>“You are such a bullshitter.” Simon’s hollow chuckles felt like spikes in Anthony’s chest. “Why can’t you let yourself be happy? You’d be <em>happy</em> with her, damn it.”</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t do this.</p><p> </p><p>This conversation suddenly felt too much. “We’ve done talking.” Anthony marched past him for the stairs. “I’ll stay out of yours and Daphne’s business.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon sighed. “Anthony, don’t be like this."</p><p> </p><p>“Be like <em>what</em>?” he said through exasperated chuckles. “I’m being myself. I’m listening to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut down,” Simon replied. “Don’t do that thing where you shut down and close off from everyone because the last time you pulled that shit, your family thought they’d never see you again.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s jaw tightened. “I won’t.”</p><p> </p><p>In a radical instant, both men realized they knew each other too well to ever keep a grudge.</p><p> </p><p>Clearing his throat, Simon nodded to the stairs. “After you.”</p><p> </p><p>When they joined their family and guests at the dinner table once more, no questioned what took them so long or how they settled their fight. In fact, it was almost as if no one cared to discuss it all, already roped into another topic—next year’s Bridgerton Family Field Day.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Well, today has surely been eventful.” Kate dunked the sponge back into suds-filled sink. She plucked another dish, scrubbing away. “In all honesty, I thought this weekend would never end.”</p><p> </p><p>“It did feel that way,” Anthony agreed, drying off a rinsed plate. “Thank you again for helping me with the cleanup.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” She nodded once, focused on the task at hand. So intent on finishing washing the dishes, this was the first Kate spoke since joining him in the kitchen. “Happy to volunteer. This feels like too much for one person to handle.”</p><p> </p><p>“Imagine growing up in this house and having to wash the dishes every night with that lot,” Anthony joked, however there was plenty of truth behind the statement. “Benedict and I would have kitchen duty. I’d do the scrubbing, he’d do the drying.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate smiled at the thought before frowning. “Didn’t your family have a chef or something? I distinctly remember you mentioning your family had a chef.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony chuckled at the teasing remark. “Yes and no. My father liked to cook. He and Mother liked to cook together. They’d cook most nights. The only time they didn’t was when we had guests or he was out of town on business.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like your mother and father were perfect together.” Kate hummed, passing off another plate to him. “Like soulmates.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyebrows jumped at the term. “Soulmates? Is dear Katherine a romantic at heart?” He gasped, wet hand landing against his chest. “This is news to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” she ordered, scrubbing a tad harder on the cup in her hand. She sounded terribly annoyed, yet her taunting grin told him otherwise. “And what if I am?”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I will mock you until my dying breath.”</p><p> </p><p>She scoffed and tossed the sponge at him. “What is so wrong with liking the idea of romance? It’s a nice escape sometimes.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony picked up the sponge, it landing further down the counter. “I never expected you to be a romantic,” he confessed. Sure, Kate was silly and imaginative in her own way, but he could not picture her as a girl who fantasied of grand romances and gestures. The Kate he knew was ridiculous and a menace, yet pragmatic. A realist <em>and</em> an idealist, a contradicting combination if he knew any.</p><p> </p><p>“There is a lot you still don’t know about me,” she told him bluntly. “Just as there is a lot I still don’t know about you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I’d like to know it all,” the words flew out of his mouth without thought. A true and earnest reaction. “All I don’t know about you.”</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled, apparently taking his insistence as a jest. “That will take more than a summer holiday.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m willing to go as long as it takes.” He bumped his shoulder into hers, nudging her lightly until she nudged him right back.</p><p> </p><p>Kate snatched the sponge back from him. They were almost done with the dishes, only a few more cups left in the sink. “So I’ve been thinking about your dare—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony groaned. “No! I was hoping you’d forget about the wager!” He leaned against the sink in defeat, hoping she’d take at least a shred of pity on him.</p><p> </p><p>“This woman <em>never</em> forgets a wager,” she shot back, smile absolutely devilish. “And if I recall correctly I <em>did</em> win.” Anthony had a feeling she’d be rubbing her fiendish, incorrigible win in his face until a rematch was declared. “Which means I get to decide on a dare for you!”</p><p> </p><p>“Can I make a request?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope,” Kate shook her head, resolute. “No requests, no amendments to the wager, no moping or crying for me to take mercy! My dare is my dare and that is final.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, drying off the cup in his hand as slowly as humanly possible. “There is no convincing you is there?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” She passed off the final cup to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Can it please not require anything involving a pool or a lake?”</p><p> </p><p>Her face scrunched, peering up at him with dark humor. “Depends. It is all up to you.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony paused, setting down the last cup on the counter. Dishes still needed to be put away, stack carefully beside them, but their chore was becoming less and less of importance as the dare in question came to light.</p><p> </p><p>“What does <em>that</em> mean?”</p><p> </p><p>With flourish Kate released the sink stopper, the groan of the drain filling the kitchen. “In the spirit of Daphne’s courage—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Tactless</em> courage,” Anthony added.</p><p> </p><p>“Courage nonetheless,” Kate corrected, “I dare you to act on what you are most terrified of!” She seemed quite pleased with herself, her smile forming into a brilliant grin. Unbeknownst to her a piece of Anthony’s soul withered at the dare. “I know you fear bees—but this is different. Like…maybe you always wanted to write a poem but you’ve been terrified—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never felt an inclination to write poetry.”</p><p> </p><p>Her grin dropped a fraction. Hands clasped under her chin, she tutted darkly. “It was an <em>example</em>. Evidently a poor example.” Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Or maybe you’ve been afraid to try a new food—”</p><p> </p><p>“I have an adventurous pallet.” He turned to her, arms crossed over his chest. He peered down at her, relishing at her quiet, near vibrating fury. “I’m willing to try any food once.”</p><p> </p><p>Her smile dropped completely. Lips pinching together, she threw her hands up. “Well then. A dare is still a dare. You need to do whatever it is you are terrified of, <em>soon</em>,” she implored. Passing by him to the dried dishes, she patted his arm. “Have some courage, Anthony. I’m sure you’ll figure out something.”</p><p> </p><p>He knew exactly <em>what</em> that something was—he simply didn’t believe he had the courage she so proclaimed.</p><p> </p><p>So instead, he watched her buzz about. Opening cabinets, putting away dishes. Watching as she sent him aggravated glares, demanding he pick up some plates and help her—all with her stubborn, expressive, far too big eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you seriously going to stand there while I do all the work?” she asked with a huff.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m thinking about my dare,” he replied, hoping his voice didn’t quiver. He tried his best to be nonchalant, indifferent on the matter. <em>That</em> would really niggle at her ego. “This is your fault, bringing up the dare at all.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh please!” She shut the cabinet door hard, the last of the dishes put away. “If we want to point fingers, it’s you to blame! I was fine playing the game, but you had to insist on a wager,” she rolled her eyes, “and I cannot back down from a challenge.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you can’t.”</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head, dark curls bouncing in reckless free-for-all. “If we are done here, I’m going to bed.”</p><p> </p><p>A call to stop her was halfway on his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>Yet he swallow down the words.</p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t right. Not here, not now.</p><p> </p><p>“Have a good night. Tell Newton he is welcome to join me is he so wants. My door is always open.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not your dog!” Kate cried out, slipping out through the swinging kitchen door. “Night Anthony!”</p><p> </p><p>Falling back against the counter, Anthony wanted to scream and kick himself upside the head.</p><p> </p><p>He was a coward. An unbelievable coward.</p><p> </p><p>Kate didn’t deserve a coward; she deserved a man from a romance novel. One willing to take a leap of faith.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t that guy.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dressed for bed and tucked under her covers, Kate tried to sketch in her notepad.</p><p> </p><p>Key word: <em>tried</em>—her mind could not focus on the pad and pencil in her hands, her thoughts drifting to a certain smug smile and dark, gentle eyes who never seemed to lose sight of her.</p><p> </p><p>Whenever her mind wandered to Anthony, her hand stopped working and all ideas she had flew out of her mind.</p><p> </p><p>He was a terrible distraction. But not an entirely unwelcomed one.</p><p> </p><p>Thought she’d never utter a word, she found his friendship charming…and sweet. Yes, he was insufferable and bossy and moodier than her teenage students, but he was Anthony. And for some reason all those qualities, wonderful and awful and absurd, made her chest swell. Like she was about to burst with flutters.</p><p> </p><p>She hated the thought. Truly.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t want to feel this way. Feeling this bizarre longing for him when there was no need. Anthony was her friend. He wanted to remain her friend and called her such, saying so over and over. Enough for Kate to get the picture.</p><p> </p><p>Yet he stared at her. In a way that felt more than friendly, more with a hint of yearning.</p><p> </p><p>Yet he cared about her. In ways she’d never been cared about before.</p><p> </p><p>And yet…</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s gaze landed on the orange tulips on her desk.</p><p> </p><p>He gave her flowers. More than once.</p><p> </p><p>“Because I’m his ‘dearest friend,’” Kate murmured to herself. Wrote the term on the card too—he wasn’t looking for more than friendship with her and she had to accept this. She had to accept friendship because friendship was better than not having him at all.</p><p> </p><p>A sharp knock landed on her door.</p><p> </p><p>Frowning, Kate checked her alarm clock.</p><p> </p><p>A little more than half-past twelve.</p><p> </p><p>Only <em>one</em> person bothered her at a late hour.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, she set down her pad and climbed out of bed. She shuffled over to the door, opening it lazily. Anthony stood on the other side—unsurprisingly— hand dropping back to his side at the sight of her. “Is Newton giving you problems already? You were the one who wanted him in your room.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony didn’t say anything back, seemingly frozen still at her door.</p><p> </p><p>He was dressed for bed, flannel pajama bottoms, old concert t-shirt from a band she never heard of, and hair damp. A tiny droplet of water sat on the corner of his glasses lens. She wanted to reach over and clean his glasses for him, the droplet for some reason annoying her.</p><p> </p><p>When he didn’t say anything, her eyebrows furrowed. “Anthony, is everything okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he breathed. “Everything’s okay.” An airy chuckle bubbled from him, a strange determined yet manic look in his eyes. “In fact, it’s going to be perfect.”</p><p> </p><p>He sounded ludicrous. “What are you—”</p><p> </p><p>All words ceased when his mouth swooped down and captured hers.</p><p> </p><p>Firm, desperate, hungry—as though he had no control. As though he were finally <em>relinquishing</em> control and falling into her. Shaky hands caressed her face, before resting sure on the nape of her neck and the back of her head.</p><p> </p><p>She’d been too stunned to move. Too overwhelmed to do anything but clutch at his arms, and cling to the wave of him.</p><p> </p><p>He began to pull away when her mind finally connected back to her body in one singular plunge. Hands zealous and fraught, she brought him back to her, lips chasing after his—until they found one another again. And again. And again, until he was gasping for breath, she completely wrapped in his embrace with no intention of letting go.</p><p> </p><p>“I did my dare,” he breathed across her cheek. Then his lips were there, trailing down her neck. Tantalizing and begging, the two edging further into the room, feverish hands dragging and grasping and touching in fumbling haste. As though afraid this would end all too soon. </p><p> </p><p>Kate barely had half the mind to shut the door before getting lost in all of him once more.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Was it worth the wait? 😉</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Hellos & Goodbyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WHAT? </p><p>ANOTHER CHAPTER?</p><p>Yes. Another chapter. Because I am both evil and kind.</p><p>But in all seriousness after this one the next chapter won't be until way later this week 😂</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anthony woke up to find the space beside him empty.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fingers ran through his hair, pulling-urging him, as he pressed his mouth over any inch of warm skin his lips found. Her jaw, her neck, her cheek, her temple. Dragging his lips to each point like a never ending succession of constellations and clusters, all of her connected to him.</em>
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  <em>He wanted her. All of her. All he could have in this instance. </em>
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  <em>What made his heart beat faster, his blood pumping at an absurd speed, was she wanted him as deeply too. Her immediate caresses, languid-yet-vociferous sighs, the press of her lips matching his in desperateness, leaving them both breathless.</em>
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</p><p>He turned on his side, reaching for her pillow. The smell of lilies invaded into his nostrils; he quickly learned all of Kate smelled like lilies and soap, a soft and practical scent. But so…<em>Kate</em>. When he closed his eyes he could still feel her—</p><p> </p><p><em>Pressing up into him, holding him as close as she possibly could.</em> <em>An lithe arm around his neck, hand pushing up his shirt off his back, edging him closer until there was no space between them but what little clothes remained.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>He smothered his face into her pillow, still in half a daze from the night before. He’d once laugh in the face of a man who claimed kissing was a superior activity to sex, but the previous nights events could have converted Anthony to such an ideology.</p><p> </p><p>Kissing Kate was euphoria.</p><p> </p><p>He never wanted to stop.</p><p> </p><p>She too much, enough, and perfect. Oh, so perfect in all the ways her imagined and more.</p><p> </p><p>He never wanted to be more than an arms reach away. He wanted to be at her side, hold her, tickle her, cause that ridiculous cackle—the one where she threw her head back, eyes scrunched, and smile infectious.</p><p> </p><p>Kate should have been in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t understand why she <em>wasn’t</em> in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>Suppressing a groan as bones popped and his muscles tensed, he grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and scanned the rest of the room.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing seemed to have been out of place. Her sketchpads were still tossed across her desk, along with her pens and pencils sticking out of their pouch.</p><p> </p><p>The only thing missing was Kate.</p><p> </p><p>And Newton.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Newton!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He left the poor dog alone in his room. When he left that night, he wasn’t too sure what he expected to happen. Honestly, Anthony thought he’d lose his nerve at the last minute and make an excuse for why he came knocking at Kate’s door in the middle of the night.</p><p> </p><p>Except when she opened the door, he collided with unbearable affection for her.</p><p> </p><p>Her dark curls—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Face buried in her neck, her hair tickled along his chin, draping down over his shoulder. As though every piece of her could not help but be wrapped around him. </em>
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</p><p>Her expressive, large eyes. Looking up at him with a hint of annoyance and fondness—never one without the other.</p><p>
  
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  <em>She blinked up at him, chest heaving, trying to catch her breath. Eyes searched his, astonishment evident. </em>
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  <em>“I want you,” he found himself confessing in the short air between them, “I’ve always wanted you.”</em>
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</p><p>Her too full lips—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I’m what you’re terrified of?” she asked. Her lips parted, ready to make a scathing remark or poise a question. Yet no sound came. Instead she began to pull away from him—</em>
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</p><p>
  <em>“No, no, no, no,” the murmurs flew from his mouth, hurrying to soothe away the pinch between her brows and the increasing hurt and confusion in her eyes. His hand smoothed down the hair, thumb resting at her temple. “It’s not that I’m terrified of you—”</em>
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</p><p>
  <em>“Well, it sounds like—”</em>
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  <em>He pressed his mouth to hers, kiss firm and begging. Begging her to understand. Parting, he stared down at her, praying she’d know he was earnest. “I am terrified by how much I want you.”</em>
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  <em>Her eyes widened a fraction, breath held. </em>
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  <em>“I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you and it terrifies me,” he said, the words barely making a sound against her lips. A secret held between them. </em>
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  <em>Her nose gently bumped against his, eyes softening into a tenderness he knew before. “I’m terrified of this too…” Her hand rested against his, anchoring him back down to earth with her before his worries swept him away. “But I’d rather us be terrified together than apart.”</em>
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</p><p><em>He could kiss her senseless. And he </em>did<em>.</em></p><p> </p><p>All concerns he had at her door faded to the back of his mind, practically nonexistent, once he kissed her.</p><p> </p><p>But he couldn’t let his mind linger on her for long, nor could he lay in bed waiting for her to return from—well, wherever it was Kate decided to run off to.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sat up, scrubbing at his face. He needed let Newton out, if Kate had not done so already, and see off Edwina and Josie. And Mary as well if she hadn’t already made her leave.</p><p> </p><p>He had to be a host, not fantasize and daydream like some school girl.</p><p> </p><p>Sparing a glance to the alarm clock, he saw it was just a little half past six. Most of the house had to be asleep, only a handful of early risers amongst them. Not to mention the games from the weekend must have exhausted everyone. He’d be able to slip out of Kate’s room undetected and find her. And take care Newton if she had not already.</p><p> </p><p>He hastily climbed out of bed and straightened the linens and duvet before beelining to the door—</p><p> </p><p>Only for the door to swing open.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate, here’s the—”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina froze at the sight of Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>The blue blow-dryer in her hand dropped from her hand, landing on the rug with a thud.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oh my</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony winced, eyes screwed shut. “Edwina—</p><p> </p><p>“—god!” Her voice pitched so high she rasped out the word. “Oh my god,” she repeated, eyes wide and frantic. “Oh my god—you and her.” Her eyes darted to the bed. “Oh my god—”</p><p> </p><p>“For the love of all things holy, stop saying ‘oh my god’,” Anthony hissed, hand running through his bedhead. “Stop.”</p><p> </p><p>“You and Kate,” her jaw dropped, “did the hanky-panky.” Another squeal leapt from her, Edwina’s hands clapping over her mouth in an instant. “Sorry,” she whispered, still reeling.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony blinked furiously at her. Did she say in all seriousness ‘<em>hanky-panky’</em>?</p><p> </p><p>Her age and innocence smacked his hard across the face. He <em>dated</em> this woman—he used the term loosely; he wasn’t too sure what to call what he and Edwina had but it certainly wasn’t dating in hindsight—and she called sex ‘hanky-panky.’ He needed a drink—<em>now</em>. Or better yet, he needed tea or coffee or something with an insane amount of caffeine so he could think clearly. This was too much to be bombarded with in the early morning.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate and I did not sleep together—”</p><p> </p><p>“But you—”</p><p> </p><p>He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We slept in the same bed, but we did not <em>sleep</em> together. Understand?”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina’s eyes narrowed, clearly not believing him. Lips pinched together, she nodded once. “I will…accept this excuse. But this moment is locked in here,” she tapped to her temple, “got it?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony huffed, reaching down to pick up the dropped blow-dryer. “Got it.” He paused, looking up at her. “Was that your version of a threat?”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina’s attempt at a fearsome face dropped. “Kind of?”</p><p> </p><p>He set the blow-dryer on the dresser. “You are the furthest thing from intimidating.” Anthony paused, considering the situation before carefully. “Don’t say anything,” he said, wondering why his voice became so small in front of her, “about…about Kate and I. Please,” he added for good measure. “We…we don’t know what this is—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s new and scary,” Edwina gently offered. “I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah…” Anthony breathed out, momentarily surprised by the girl’s perceptiveness.</p><p> </p><p>But then he realized she must be feeling, to a degree, the same about Josie.</p><p> </p><p>Lips turning up in a small smile, she crossed her heart. “I won’t say a word.” She turned on her heel, prepared to walk out, before whirling back to him. Her brows were pinched together, but there was an odd determination to her stance. “You and I were never supposed to go out.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony frowned, confused by the declaration. “Excuse me?”</p><p> </p><p>“When we first met at the café with Eloise,” Edwina elaborated, calm and pragmatic, “it wasn’t supposed to be me you asked out. It was supposed to be Kate—well, Eloise and I wanted it to be Kate,” she corrected, looking apologetic. “Eloise always mentioned this overbearing brother she had—no offense—and I talked about my well-meaning but maybe a tad too invested older sister and we thought ‘why not!’” She shrugged. “Maybe Kate and Anthony would hit it off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why wasn’t she there then?” he asked, recalling the meeting with startling clarity. More than he ever had.</p><p> </p><p>He and Eloise sitting with their cooling cups of tea, she claiming she had a friend of a friend she wanted him to meet, that he’d like her—but she said it in her Eloise way, the way she plotted and conspired. The way she’d done when she tried (and notoriously failed) to matchmake. He decided to humor her, but her friend was running late. Absurdly late.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate tried to make it, but she had an emergency meeting at work,” Edwina explained, a bit grave. “She thought it was just going to be me and her. No one else. So she canceled.”</p><p> </p><p>He was able to put together the rest of the story—since Kate never made it, he believed the friend of a friend Eloise mentioned to be Edwina and her asked her out.</p><p> </p><p>“And I didn’t want to say ‘no’ because you were so kind and nice and…” Her face fell. “And I was confused about Josie and…” She shook her head. “I guess what I am trying to say is I’m sorry. I used you and I shouldn’t have.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know what to say to her, their meeting continuing to play on loop in his mind. How Kate was supposed to be there, but she wasn’t. How Edwina always mentioned <em>Kate</em>—Kate’s thoughts and opinions and life. As though maybe, just maybe, Edwina was trying to plant the idea of Kate in his mind from the beginning.</p><p> </p><p>To think two weeks prior he seethed at the thought of the woman and now she was the first person he sought upon waking.</p><p> </p><p>She’d been under his nose the entire time.</p><p> </p><p>“In a way it’s like you and Kate were always destined to meet,” Edwina said, her inherent joyfulness returning. “I like that for you two.”</p><p> </p><p>This was a lot for one morning.</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose there is some truth to your words,” Anthony told her, throat feeling dry. “Excuse me, I need to go walk Newton. I’ll make sure to see you off.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina nodded, slipping out of the room before him and heading back to the East Wing.</p><p> </p><p>He left after her, walking the few short feet to his room. Opening his bedroom door he found it empty, no Newton nor Kate. “<em>Where the hell…”</em></p><p> </p><p>“If you’re looking for Newton,” a far too chipper voice called out, “your dear Kate took him for a walk.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony froze. Lifting his head ever so slightly, he caught his brother standing outside Penelope’s door, two cups of tea in hand.</p><p> </p><p>How long had Colin been standing there?</p><p> </p><p>Clearing his throat, Anthony nodded once to Colin. “Good morning—</p><p> </p><p>“I saw you last night. Going to her room. You’re a hypocrite and I don’t want to talk to you,” Colin declared, the cheeriness in his voice incredibly false and brimming with hampered down fury.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sighed. He could never catch a goddamn break these days. “Colin—”</p><p> </p><p>His brother entered Penelope’s room and slammed the door shut.</p><p> </p><p>“Always the charmer,” he muttered, teeth gritted. “Always the <em>fucking</em> charmer.”</p><p> </p><p>He entered his room, his own door slamming shut behind him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You like him don’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>Newton’s tongue lulled out.</p><p> </p><p>Kate gave him another jerky treat.</p><p> </p><p>“You like him more than me, don’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>His teeth chomped down on the snack, paying no mind to her.</p><p> </p><p>“You can say it,” she bristled, kicking her legs out in front of her, “I won’t be offended.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate paused, considering her claim.</p><p> </p><p>“I take that back,” she grumbled, flopping back on the grass beside Newton. “I would be absolutely offended. I’m the one who picked you from the litter and raised you Newton!”</p><p> </p><p>His head titled to the side, looking up at her, yet he continued to gnaw at his jerky.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I see how it is,” Kate hummed darkly, a hand lazily petting at Newton, “Anthony comes in all charming and commanding and you become butter, I become chopped liver, and he is now your master.” She scoffed. “I cannot believe you would abandon me like that Newton.”</p><p> </p><p>Except she could. Because Anthony adored her fur-baby and for reason he adored…<em>her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She knew he must have liked her, to an extent. No one called anyone their ‘dearest friend’ without some sentimentality behind the words.</p><p> </p><p>Rolling to her side, she propped her head up in her hand, watching Newton nibble away. She slid over another jerky treat, a happy yawn coming from her dog.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” she whispered, scratching Newton behind his ears. “I get it. I do. He’s pretty great.” She pursed her lips, all the arguably un-great qualities of Anthony suddenly coming to mind—his sacrificial nature, indomitable demeanor, over-protective tendencies. And then there was his petulant temper—not that she was any better. “Well, he’s pretty great when he wants to be.”</p><p> </p><p>She lowered her head closer to Newton. “This stays between you and me but,” she glanced around, finding they were still alone, “I really like him. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.” She booped Newton’s nose. “But you can’t tell anyone. Not a soul.”</p><p> </p><p>Her pooch flopped to his side, mirroring her. Half of his second jerky hung out of his mouth, he lazily chewing on it.</p><p> </p><p>“To be a dog,” Kate mused, patting his belly, “that’s the life isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>The slide of the pool house backdoor echoed across the lawn. “Good morning, Katherine!” Benedict called out. He wasn’t necessarily a cheerful morning person, but he tried to be upbeat around Kate and his mother. She noticed this early on, the occasionally moody artist practically glaring at all others if it was before ten.</p><p> </p><p>Dressed comfortably for the day with a pochade box slung over his shoulder, Benedict ambled down the mild slope of the lawn to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Have a project planned?” she asked, sitting back up.</p><p> </p><p>“A bit of one, yeah,” he ran a hand through his dark hair, face scrunching. “Planning on working at one of the rests in the nature path,” he nodded up to where the trail started. “Getting away from everyone let’s me think a little clearer.”</p><p> </p><p>She hummed in understanding. While she enjoyed being surrounded by such a rambunctious, overlapping, and invested (read: nosey) family, she was beginning to appreciate the few moments of quietness and solitude she did achieve.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe that was her reason for slipping out before Anthony woke.</p><p> </p><p>And not…and not because she was overwhelmed and panicking and wondering what was happening to her. To them. Why it suddenly felt like a switch had been flipped and there was no going back—jumping into a territory she never knew, with Anthony appearing to be just as anxious as her.</p><p> </p><p>She swallowed tightly, looking back up at Benedict with, what she hoped, was a pleasant smile. “Anything you need to talk out?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He chuckled a bit, a grateful but begrudged look sent her way. “Kate, you cannot be every Bridgerton’s personal therapist. You’d go bonkers.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I’m already bonkers,” she replied. “I’m merely coming into my full form.”</p><p> </p><p>He hummed, seemingly agreeing with her observation. “Family Field Day got me thinking…” Benedict crouched down beside her, giving Newton a good pat as he did so. “I wanted Ethan there.” He clasped his hands together between his knees, the picture of calm on the outside. Yet Kate could tell he was apprehensive, his averted gaze told her so. “Ethan should be here. He was the only one I wanted to run to when Anthony was injured.” An empty, downhearted chuckle slipped through him. “I know I wasn’t…” He paused, an uncomfortable shift in his expression. “I wasn’t a good brother that night. I know I wasn’t and the only excuse I have is…I’m the second born.” A half shrug jumped through him, Benedict cringing at his own words. “I don’t deal with crisis. So I apologize.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”</p><p> </p><p>His head tilted side to side, considering the claim. “Anthony would never accept my apology, so you are the next best thing.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict stood, readjusting his pochade over his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>He paused, inhaling deeply. “Never knew you had a penchant for cedarwood. Thought you were more of a lilies scent person.”</p><p> </p><p>A flush consumed Kate from head to toe.</p><p> </p><p>Cedarwood was <em>Anthony’s</em> scent.</p><p> </p><p>“How odd,” she rasped out, climbing back up to her feet. “Enjoy you painting and your thinking.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Benedict’s easy smile turned into something far more clever, and knowing; it put Kate at an unease. Bridgertons were more perceptive than she realized. “Maybe some painting and thinking would do you some good too. Like I said, you are free to use whatever supplies I have in the studio. It’s unlocked.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, he took his leave to the nature trail.</p><p> </p><p>Kate spared a glance at Newton. “The whole lot of them are nosey bastards.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t agree with her; typical Newton.</p><p> </p><p>Grabbing his leash, she began to lead him back to the house.</p><p> </p><p>Except her feet stopped when she spotted Anthony charging out from the mudroom door. His hair was a mess, sticking up and fluffy at the top, and his clothes haphazard, thrown together in haste.</p><p> </p><p>He was looking for her. Must have been. He had that grumpy, ‘I’m annoyed with Kate’ look on his face.</p><p> </p><p>Kate did not know what possessed her in this instance, but she reacted on instinct.</p><p> </p><p>She dove behind the closest bush.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, she did not think this through.</p><p> </p><p>Such as the rustle of branches. Or the fact Newton would betray her and dash towards Anthony without second thought.</p><p> </p><p>His footsteps crept closer.</p><p> </p><p>Kate tried to make herself small, as tight as a ball, and pretend she was one with the greenery. That she could become invisible if she believed hard enough.</p><p> </p><p>Footsteps stopped. “Kate, what the hell are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>Lifting her head from her folded arms, she found Anthony staring down at her, stunned and maybe just the tad bit disappointed.</p><p> </p><p>Newton trotted up to her face and licked her ear.</p><p> </p><p>Devil dog. She understood the claims of Newton’s demonic origins. This thus proved it.</p><p> </p><p>“Um…” Kate pushed herself up, patting down her errant curls. With the wind of the countryside, her hair never seemed to lay still. She more than once entertained the idea of chopping them all off. “I’m….sitting.”</p><p> </p><p>His mouth formed a flat line, unamused. “In a bush?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s jaw clenched for a fraction before releasing, eyes locked down on her. “I saw you jump behind the bush, Kate. You weren’t exactly discreet.”</p><p> </p><p>Well, shit.</p><p> </p><p>Sensing she wasn’t going to defend her actions—she honestly didn’t know how to defend her actions—Anthony cleared his throat. “I…you…” His eyes screwed shut, an irate huff coming through his nose. “You weren’t there this morning. When I woke up.”</p><p> </p><p>The pinch of pain in his voice brought her scurrying to her feet.</p><p> </p><p>“If you,” he blinked, eyes seemingly bigger behind his glasses; he must have been in a rush if he hadn’t had the mind to switch to contacts, “regret what happened—"</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t,” she rushed out. “I don’t regret it at all.” Her hands clenched at her sides, at a loss of what to do with herself. Part of her wanted to jump into his arms and make him understand with every inch of her body, while the other wanted to shake him senseless for jumping to worst scenario. “I meant what I said last night.”</p><p> </p><p>Another flush decided to invade her senses, the airy outdoors suddenly too stifling.</p><p> </p><p>“Then I don’t understand—”</p><p> </p><p>“Newton,” Kate waved to the corgi, who now sat at their feet watching them with rapt interest, “needed to be let out.”</p><p> </p><p>They both knew this was a flimsy excuse. Newton was well-trained in the restroom department, not to mention it had became a habit to walk Newton in the mornings <em>together</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She could have woken him up. But she didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>“I think Newton would have been fine,” Anthony edged out, brows furrowing. “He’s a good boy.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate snorted. “I am positive this is the first time you have ever claimed him to be such.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s shoulders tensed. “Don’t change the subject.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate huffed, arms rising and flopping back to her sides. “I don’t know <em>why</em>, okay?” Biting her lips together, she tried to keep her composure. She didn’t expect him to be <em>so</em>…insecure or triggered by this. She didn’t expect herself to be so riled up by the question. But the reason <em>why</em> was becoming more and more glaringly obvious in her mind. And she felt embarrassed to admit the shortcoming. “Anthony, I…” she swallowed tightly, standing taller. “I’ve never been with a man.”</p><p> </p><p>He froze.</p><p> </p><p>Then the tension in shoulders melted. “Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s why…” She tucked a loose hair behind her ear, looking away from him. “That’s why we didn’t…” Screw being uncomfortable or embarrassed, she could not have this conversation with the grass. Kate’s gaze snapped up to him, firm and honest. “That’s why we didn’t do anything else last night, even though I could <em>tell</em> you wanted more. And you were very gracious about it.”</p><p> </p><p>He was. He didn’t pressure her in any way. He listened to her without needing to utter more than a few words.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was a considerate lover.</p><p> </p><p>She felt her cheeks burn at the thought.</p><p> </p><p>He inched forward, edging into her space. His hand caught her elbow, slipping down the length of her arm to her hand. Anthony simply held her hand. “And that’s why you left this morning without a word because…you were <em>embarrassed</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“God, you make it sound so stupid when you say it like that,” she spat.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not stupid,” he was quick to assure her. “It’s not. It’s only stupid because you have no reason to be embarrassed around me.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate wanted to feel relieved at his earnest words. She did, truly. But it was difficult.</p><p> </p><p>Wind brushed through the hills, her curls once against falling into her face. With a warm hand, he carefully tucked her hair back behind her ear. Yet his hand did not drop away, instead trailing along the curve of her face to where her neck and shoulder met. He pressed there, a brief massage, but better yet a firm reminder to relax.</p><p> </p><p>“I only wanted you there when I woke up because I wanted to hold you. Not for any other reason but to be there with you.”</p><p> </p><p>The air left her lungs. “Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>His warm, brown eyes met hers. No mirth, no annoyance, no desire—just Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>“I never want to do anything you don’t want to do,” he told her firmly. “Know that. Always feel comfortable with me; there is never any judgement when were together.”</p><p> </p><p>Speechless, Kate nodded.</p><p> </p><p>Then she kissed him.</p><p> </p><p>“I think I want to do more of that,” she murmured out when she pulled a hair away.</p><p> </p><p>He had no arguments, pulling her up against and returning with as much zeal.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I think they are making-out!” Hyacinth cried out to the entire sunroom. She hopped up on the bench, trying to see over the tremendous hedge Anthony and Kate disappeared behind.</p><p> </p><p>Only the top of Anthony’s head could be caught in glimpse from the benches vantage point.</p><p> </p><p>“Hyacinth!” Violet scolded. “Get down from there!” She bustled over to the laid out food and tea, wrapping her robe tighter around her. “You need to stop spying on your brother. Isn’t this your fourth claim in the last twenty-four hours that Kate and Anthony are ‘making-out’?”</p><p> </p><p>At the table Gregory snorted. “Ha!”</p><p> </p><p>“They are!” Hyacinth declared, remaining rooted on the bench. A ridiculous sight in her kitten, flannel pajamas and purple dinosaur plushie slippers. “Two people who make those eyes at each other, running off by themselves cannot <em>not</em> be necking!”</p><p> </p><p>“We have <em>guests</em> Hyacinth,” Violet reminded her, “keep your voice down.”</p><p> </p><p>None of the said guests—several of which were leaving in another hour or two—were in the sunroom. And they were in the East Wing, where sound traveled terribly.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth knew this from the time she locked Gregory in the wardrobe. He’d been missing for an entire day and no one heard his shouts. It took Anthony checking every room in the house to find him; Gregory has still not forgiven her for this horror.</p><p> </p><p>“I say we have a wager!” Hyacinth announced.</p><p> </p><p>Violet and Gregory were not amused. Both choose to ignore her, sitting with each other at the table and enjoy their breakfast.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, Eloise and Francesca choose this moment to enter the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Sisters, I declare we start a wager!” she told them, hands on her hips.</p><p> </p><p>“A wager?” Eloise asked, exhausted at the suggestion. “Last time we had a wager with you, it was rigged. No thank you.” She picked up a plate from the breakfast station and began piling up her food.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth huffed before turning to her other sister. “Francesca?”</p><p> </p><p>The girl in question lifted her head, eyes dead set and blunt without saying the word ‘no.’</p><p> </p><p>Honestly, what was the point of having a large family if they never wanted to have any fun at the expense of the other! And if they did, they always left Hyacinth out of the fun and gossip, claiming her to be ‘too young’ to understand.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on!” the girl bemoaned. “I won’t rig it! Promise!”</p><p> </p><p>Murmurs of disagreement sounded off in the room.</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t!” Stomping her foot, she turned to the next two faces entering the room. “Pen! Colin! Best-est brother, would you like to start a betting pool?”</p><p> </p><p>He paused, considering the suggestion. Then— “No.”</p><p> </p><p>“My god, you are the worst lot ever!” she seethed, leaping off of the bench. “Anthony and Kate could be making-out—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Gross</em>!” Eloise called out, mouthful of scone.</p><p> </p><p>“This is the time to place our bets on when they’ll get married!”</p><p> </p><p>Silence followed.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Eloise tossed down her sausage, “she has point.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin was the first to jump in. “Four hundred on November!” When he earned surprised looks, he shrugged. “I can see them having an autumn wedding.”</p><p> </p><p>“You really had to go that high?” Eloise grumbled. Family wagers usually remained low, more so to prevent anyone from getting out of hand. Colin effectively decided to throw these unspoken rules out the window. “Put me down for December. More specifically the week between Christmas and New Year’s. I know Anthony and he would want to make a fuss and just do it when we are all already here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait—Isn’t Anthony still dating Edwina?” Gregory asked.</p><p> </p><p>Groans filled the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you really think Anthony and Edwina are still together?” Hyacinth asked her idiotic brother. “They haven’t been seen alone together at all since she arrived. And have you not seen the way she and Josie look at each other?” She raised her eyebrows. “I’m just saying.”</p><p> </p><p>“They broke up.”</p><p> </p><p>All heads snapped to Violet.</p><p> </p><p>“You did not hear it from me, but Anthony had told me he and Edwina are no longer together. I felt it was obvious,” she shrugged, perhaps also disappointed in Gregory’s deduction skills. “They broke up on Thursday.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who broke up on Thursday?” Daphne asked, she and Simon entering the sunroom.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony and Edwina,” Eloise supplied. “But I knew that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Us too,” Daphne nodded to Simon. “Anthony talked quite a bit after that concussion. Poor thing, trying to stay awake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did everyone know about this break-up except for me?” Gregory asked.</p><p> </p><p>No one answered him.</p><p> </p><p>Huffing, he picked up his tea. He sipped stubbornly, only to paused a fraction later-- "Wait, I think I did know about the break-up?" he groaned into his tea. "It's too early for all this talk. My brain's all jumbled."</p><p> </p><p>“I am putting together a pool on when Anthony and Kate will get married,” Hyacinth informed the two. “Would you like to join?”</p><p> </p><p>“They got together?” Daphne near squealed.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Eloise told them, “but we are working ahead here. Catch up.”</p><p> </p><p>“July next year,” Daphne said, joining in on the fun. Hyacinth could always rely on the Basset’s to listen to her wisdom, the only two with sense.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Boo</em>!” Eloise and Colin cried out.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne turned to the two, offended. “At the very least July next year. July will hold sentimental value since it is when they met and it also gives them enough time to plan their wedding.”</p><p> </p><p>More boos commenced.</p><p> </p><p>“They have to have a big wedding!” Daphne, of course, believed this wholeheartedly. “Anthony is a Bridgerton! The eldest Bridgeton. At least one of family company’s magazines is going to want to do a spread on him. I am being logical here!”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re being boring,” Hyacinth said rather bluntly. She turned to Simon. “Yours?”</p><p> </p><p>“September. This year.”</p><p> </p><p>Gasps and yelps of astonishment came from the Bridgertons.</p><p> </p><p>“So soon?” Violet near croaked.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think they’d want to waste time,” Simon reasoned, smirking a bit at the family’s reaction. “I don’t think Anthony would want to waste time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Any other additions?” Hyacinth eyed the room, eyes landing on Francesca and Penelope. “Franny? Pen—I know you aren’t a Bridgerton, but you are absolutely welcome to join!”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope shook her head. “It’s more fun to watch the outcome than participate.”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth could not argue with her; there was a certain fun to watching chaos, especially Bridgerton chaos.</p><p> </p><p>“You know what? I have one I’d like to put in,” Francesca said, startling the room. She waved Hyacinth over, cupping a hand over her mouth to whisper to her. “July.”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth pulled away, frowning. “That month's already taken.”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca shook her head, motioning Hyacinth to come back.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>This</em> July,” she hissed in her ear.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p> </p><p>The quietest Bridgerton nodded, sure of herself.</p><p> </p><p>She blinked down at her older sister, baffled. “You <em>really</em> want to lose don’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca shrugged one shoulder, undeterred by the judgement. One needed to have thick skin in their family if they were to survive; Francesca arguably had the thickest.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright then—looks like we just need Benedict’s month and then we are good to go!” Hyacinth stood proud, trying the bets in her phone. “Looks like have ourselves a pool, Bridgertons. Let the games begin!”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Edwina squeezed the life out of Kate.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll see you in two weeks,” Kate wheezed out, patting at her sister’s back. “You can survive two weeks without me!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure about that,” Edwina mumbled into her shoulder. She pulled away, straightening herself, then straightening Kate’s sweater. “This weekend was so much fun despite injuries and break-ups and everything else.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyebrows jumped up. “Right. It was.”</p><p> </p><p>“There is never a dull moment here,” Edwina mused, “I don’t know how you can handle being here for a full month. I’d lose my mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m sure I am getting there.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina’s high pitched giggles warmed Kate. “Enjoy the rest of your time here and call me! No going radio silence like last time. I need my sister, now more than ever.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you call me if…” Kate’s eyes trailed teasingly over to Josie, who was saying her own goodbyes to Eloise and Francesca. “…if anything <em>happens</em>.” She wiggled her eyebrows, hands poking at her sister.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate!” Edwina yelped, swatting her away. “And what if things have <em>already</em> happened? Hmm?” she asked primly.</p><p> </p><p>Kate gasped, indignant. “And you didn’t tell me!”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been a little preoccupied with a certain some—<em>hello Anthony</em>!” Edwina leapt into his arms, bringing him into a fierce hug as she’d done Kate. “Maybe I should say ‘goodbye,’” she pulled away, patting his chest, “thank you again for this weekend and everything else.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” he told her, “and thank you. For…for I think you know <em>what</em>,” he said, oddly cryptic.</p><p> </p><p>Her sister positively melted, her smile bouncing between Kate and Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>“Am I missing something here?” Kate asked, unsure of what happened between Edwina and Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing you need to worry your little head about.” Edwina booped her nose. She nodded over to the car. “I best be going. I’m sure Mama wants to say her goodbyes as well.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina hurried off, giving one last wave to them before going into the car after Josie.</p><p> </p><p>“She was acting weird,” Kate muttered, eyes narrowed on where Edwina stood.</p><p> </p><p>“I think she was acting fine,” Anthony countered swiftly. “Like she said, nothing you need to worry your little head about.”</p><p> </p><p>A few feet over Violet and Mary were having their own tearful goodbye, the two somehow forming a formidable bond in less than forty-eight hours.</p><p> </p><p>“When I am back in town we need to set up a lunch,” Violet insisted. “Let me know whatever time works for you. And no backing out!”</p><p> </p><p>Mary laughed, the phrase apparently an inside joke between the women. When did they have time to make inside jokes, Kate would never know.</p><p> </p><p>Her mother noticed her nearby and said her final goodbyes to her new friend before coming over. She brought Kate into a brief hug. “You be good,” she mumbled to her, almost on instinct. “And call me if you need anything.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate appreciated the gesture, Mary always taking care of her and concerned for her. “I think I’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you will.” Mary patted her cheek. Her eyes darted to Anthony, who lingered a few steps aside. “Kate, I need to speak with Anthony for a moment. Concussion talk. Nurse-ly duties and whatnot.”</p><p> </p><p>Her nose wrinkled. “Be my guest.” She pressed a kiss to Mary’s cheek. A flash of concern gripped her. “He’s okay right?”</p><p> </p><p>Mary softened. “He’s fine. Just a few things I want to make sure he does these next few days. Hurry off.”</p><p> </p><p>Not needing to be told twice, Kate listened to Mary and left the two, though not without glancing back at the two.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I had a friend send in a referral to a neurologist for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony recoiled. “Excuse me?” Panic swelled in him; was his concussion worse than she let on? He felt <em>fine</em>. There weren’t any of the warning signs as she listed to him. “Is this about the concussion?”</p><p> </p><p>Mary tutted, shaking her head once. “No, no, no. This about your headaches. Your chronic headaches as you put.”</p><p> </p><p>“They go away after a while,” he shrugged. “Sometimes they last hours. Sometimes they last days. The headaches go away. Nothing to worry about.”</p><p> </p><p>“Headaches are not suppose to last that long, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve had them for years, I’m fine,” he stated, not understanding why she sent a referral.</p><p> </p><p>“Chronic <em>anything</em> is not fine,” Mary told him patiently. “You could be experiencing migraines and the doctor can prescribe medication to help.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I could be experiencing something worse than a migraine,” Anthony stated, not liking how his voice pitched. Or how his throat constricted at the thought of something <em>worse</em> than a migraine. “Like something life threatening?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe,” Mary said matter-of-fact, but also startled by the question. “But I doubt it. Just make an appointment when they call.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he breathed out. This could be nothing. This could be nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing. “Why—why did you send a referral if you think it is nothing too troubling? If I may ask, that is.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary blinked at him, lips twitching in a motherly smile. “Because I believe you will be in my Kate’s life for some time. Which ever way that is. So I want to make sure you are taken care of. That you are well.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s very kind of you.”</p><p> </p><p>She gave a small shrug. “A selfish kindness,” she confessed, “my daughter has experience great loss in her life.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t stand for more of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t either.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll hold you to it then.” Then she patted his cheek, fondly, in the way he had seen her do to both Edwina and Kate. “Take care.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was reminded of what he knew upon meeting Mary Sheffield—she was woman to reckoned with, her daughters the same.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“If the baby is a girl, can you name her after me?” Hyacinth asked, sprawled out on den floor with several blankets laid out under her. “I’d like to have a namesake to shower with gifts.”</p><p> </p><p>From the corner of the sectional, Daphne shook her head. “I’m not going to name a child after you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” the girl grumbled, rolling on to her stomach. “I’d be a wonderful godmother and namesake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because we have traditions in this family,” Daphne told her, resolute. “And none of them are naming children after their youngest, most aggravating sibling.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate had to smother her laughter into the throw pillow on her lap. She hadn’t intended on spending the evening with the ladies in the den, but Daphne had declared a movie night for the girls, and Kate could not refuse the offer.</p><p> </p><p>Especially since Anthony had been attached to her side all afternoon. No more so than usual, but enough to garner a curious glance or two from the siblings.</p><p> </p><p>They agreed to keep this development in their relationship—whatever this development could be called—between them. An understandable agreement considering the Bridgertons and the timing. He and Edwina had amicably ended their relationship a few days prior. They didn’t need anyone in the house making broad accusations as to why.  </p><p> </p><p>Eloise cackled with delight at the jab. “Ha! Daphne would name her child ‘Voldemort’ before she’d even dare name them after you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh!” Hyacinth chucked a nearby pillow at her older sister. “You are all terrible.”</p><p> </p><p>“What <em>would</em> you name the baby?” Francesca asked. She’d been the sweetest at Daphne and Simon’s news, beyond happy for them. So pleased and excited at the news, Francesca went into town to pick up yarn and started to make a baby blanket for her future niece or nephew.</p><p> </p><p>“Simon and I already agreed to follow tradition,” Daphne said, beaming. “So we are thinking ‘Amelia’ for a girl or ‘Andrew’ for a boy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like those names,” Francesca praised, looping her green yarn with her crochet hook. “Since I know the name will begin with ‘A’ no matter what, I’ll embroider their initials.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does everyone follow this tradition?” Kate found herself asking, intrigued by the concept of alphabetical names. She knew all the siblings had been named in alphabetical order, from Anthony to Hyacinth. They’d often joke of their alphabetical status when their mother wasn’t in the room, most of the siblings finding the idea humorous.</p><p> </p><p>However that’s where Kate’s curiosity ended.</p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t necessarily…attached…or <em>liked</em> the idea, to be perfectly frank, of alphabetical names. First hand she’d seen how alphabetical order affected students, the roster and classes defaulting to the alphabetical organization. Those who were further in the alphabet, in both first and last name, felt inferior to their peers. Students had told her so on more than once occasion.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, technically Mother and Father were the one’s to start it,” Daphne answered, “and I shall continue. And hopefully,” she nudged both Francesca and Eloise on either side of her, “my siblings shall do the same.”</p><p> </p><p>Beside Kate, Penelope cringed.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise huffed at the sight.</p><p> </p><p>Kate had been surprised the girls weren’t sitting with each other, her concern only growing when neither seemed to acknowledge the other’s presence.</p><p> </p><p>Until now that is.</p><p> </p><p>“Penelope hates our alphabetical names!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Eloise</em>!” her friend yelped.</p><p> </p><p>“She absolutely hates it and has told me she’d never, <em>ever</em>, ever would subject her children to such humility.” Eloise crossed her arms over her chest with an air of finality.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne gaped at her sister, then poor Penelope. “You hate alphabetical names?” She sighed, clearly distraught. “Then how on earth are you going to name yours and Colin’s children?”</p><p> </p><p>A piercing silence swept through the room.</p><p> </p><p>Penelope’s fair cheeks flamed red.</p><p> </p><p>“I—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Daphne</em>!” Eloise screeched, ready to pounce on her sister. “I told you that in confidence!”</p><p> </p><p>“You told Daphne about Colin and I?” Penelope wheezed out, looking on the verge of a full blown panic attack or—or maybe it was rage. Kate could not decipher the difference on the girl.</p><p> </p><p>“Who else was I supposed to tell?” Eloise shot back.</p><p> </p><p>“No one! No one else, Eloise!” Penelope cried out.</p><p> </p><p>“Not that it matters,” Daphne shifted away from Eloise, practically on top of Francesca, “Simon and I already knew!”</p><p> </p><p>Both Eloise and Penelope turned to Daphne, stunned and furious. “You and Simon knew? And you didn’t say <em>anything</em>!” Eloise grabbed the nearest pillow, lifting it high to pummel her sister.</p><p> </p><p>In a flash, Daphne scrambled off the sofa all the way to the other side of the coffee table. “Pregnant!” She held her hands out, ready slap and swat at her sister if she made a move. “I am pregnant and you cannot attack me!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, but it’s fucking fine for you to participate in field day right?” Eloise spat.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to use that as an excuse for everything now, aren’t you?” Hyacinth grumbled, arms crossed over her chest. “I wish I was pregnant.”</p><p> </p><p>All the woman in the room whipped their heads to her, shocked at the statement.</p><p> </p><p>“No you don’t!” Daphne hissed. “No, no, no! You need to stay unpregnant for a very long time!”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you even <em>know</em> how babies are made?” Eloise asked, nose sniveled.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth scoffed. “My god! I don’t really want to be pregnant! I just want to use it as an excuse to not do anything!” She turned to Daphne, annoyed. “You get to use it as a free pass for everything now! Even in a family argument! It’s not fair.”</p><p> </p><p>“No she doesn’t!” Eloise leapt up from the sofa, about to dash towards Daphne.</p><p> </p><p>Only for Francesca to tackle her back down on to the sofa. “Leave Daphne alone! She needs to be more careful and <em>we</em> need to be more careful around her,” she told her older sister. She sent a scathing stare to Daphne. “She shouldn’t have even participated in field day. And <em>she</em> knows it.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne at least had the heart to look ashamed.</p><p> </p><p>“How did you even know about Penelope and Colin?” Eloise asked, not letting the matter go.</p><p> </p><p>Penelope sighed, becoming smaller. “I’m right <em>here</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Colin isn’t as discreet as he likes to believe he is,” Daphne explained, exasperated. She sent Penelope a small, apologetic glance. “We all see him go in and out of your room at all hours of the day. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, so I wasn’t imagining things,” Francesca muttered, then winced. “Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope’s grace and patience was admirable. The woman remained composed in the face of her apparent secret being unleashed and known amongst her lover’s family.</p><p> </p><p>If it were her, Kate would have ran.</p><p> </p><p>In fact, she felt like escaping for Penelope’s sake.</p><p> </p><p>“I guess the nice thing is you and Colin are together,” Hyacinth said, not reading the room well. “This means I won and Gregory owes me.”</p><p> </p><p>This was apparently the last straw.</p><p> </p><p>“You are all the same,” Penelope said, voice steady as steel. “All of you Bridgertons.” She stared down at her hands. “I love you all, like my own family and… and I’m starting to realize maybe you lot aren’t really a family at all. But a group of people who keep secrets from each other, fight each other constantly, and think you are better than one another. All. The. Time.” Pursing her lips, Penelope stood to her full height and faced the rest of the women in the room. “You are all strangers to each other and you don’t even notice. It hurts to watch.” She blinked, swallowing down pride and tears. “If you’ll excuse me.”</p><p> </p><p>She walked out of the room, head held high and not looking back.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise chased after her. “Pen! Penelope! <em>I’m sorry</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca and Daphne stared out to where the girl left, both unsure of what to do.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth looked frightened. “What just happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think we broke Penelope,” Daphne uttered, brows pinched and hands clasped fretfully together. “Oh god.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate stood up from the sofa, fiddling with the drawstrings of her sweater. “I’m going to go uh—” She walked out of the den, finding herself out in the corridor. She walked the length of the way, feet stopping outside of the study, feeling at least a bit more comforted knowing Anthony was on the other side of the door.</p><p> </p><p>Kate was stuck in a hard place as spectator, knowing there was nothing she could do to fix this situation. Because damn it, she cared about these people. But she wasn’t a Bridgerton and she felt no right to defend them. But at the same time…she wasn’t friends with Penelope. Despite feeling the overwhelming need to comfort the girl, Kate did not know her well. She knew her help would probably be unwelcomed.</p><p> </p><p>“Pen! What are you doing?” Colin’s voice called out from upstairs.</p><p> </p><p>“Penelope, stop!” Eloise’s orders went ignored as the bumping of a suitcase came down the stairs. “Pen, you don’t need to leave.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m tired, Eloise,” Penelope huffed, coming to a stop at the ground floor.</p><p> </p><p>Kate inched further away from the study door, listening.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m tired of both of you,” Penelope told them, leaving no room for argument. “I’m tired of the secrets between us, and I’m tired of <em>being</em> a secret.”</p><p> </p><p>Down the corridor, the study door opened, urgent footsteps coming forward.</p><p> </p><p>She spun around, catching Anthony before he could barrel his way into the foyer and into the conversation. A conversation where he was absolutely not needed.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate, what are you—”</p><p> </p><p>She slapped a hand over his mouth, nodding towards the front of the house.</p><p> </p><p>He glowered down at her, ready to argue.</p><p> </p><p>“Being a secret?” Colin’s usually cheerful voice sounded desperate. “You’re not a secret. You’re…Pen. Pen my friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Apparently this was the wrong thing to say. “I’m not just your friend and we both know it,” she said to him simply. “You entire family knows it.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony winced behind Kate’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>Gently lifting her hand from his mouth, Anthony held her hand. Together, they quietly crept forward, making sure to keep out of view from the three. From behind the curve of the stairs, they could see the backs of Eloise and Colin standing before an upset Penelope.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, just because Colin is a dick doesn’t mean you have to leave,” Eloise sputtered out. “You’re my best friend and yeah, we had a fight, but what the fuck—it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m sorry. I am so sorry I kept it <em>all</em> from you. I am. Please just stay. I need you.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I don’t need you,” Penelope told her.</p><p> </p><p>The front door opened, then shut with a definite clamp.</p><p> </p><p>“I have to—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony made to step forward.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s grip on his hand kept him in place. “No. You don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“They need me,” he hissed, slouching a bit to her level as he addressed her. “Did you not hear what just happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I did,” she told him, put out, “I was next to you the entire time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you know I need to go help.”</p><p> </p><p>“With what?” Kate asked, genuinely wanting to know the answer. “There is nothing you can do to fix the situation.” She hated saying it, but it was true. “You cannot run after Penelope and beg her to stay for the sake of your siblings when she’s not at fault here.”</p><p> </p><p>His jaw locked, nostrils flaring at her astute prediction. “How did you know I was going to do that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I would probably do the same and I know it is wrong,” she confessed. Kate waved off to where his siblings stood in the foyer, the two talking too low for either to hear. “They need to fix this themselves. Not you.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Why the fuck did you have to fuck my best friend</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>A crash echoed in the foyer.</p><p> </p><p>“Now <em>that</em> I need to intervene!” Anthony snatched his hand away from her and marched out to Eloise and Colin. “What the <em>hell</em> is going on here!” he bellowed upon reaching them.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyes screwed shut. Anthony could not help himself, could he?</p><p> </p><p>Taking a deep breath, she followed after him.</p><p> </p><p>Several of the siblings had popped out of their hiding spots, Daphne, Francesca, and Hyacinth standing in the entry of the den, while the others stood lingering at stair’s landing.</p><p> </p><p>All eyes were on Eloise and Colin, the short woman hanging on to her older brother like a monkey as she held him a death-grip headlock. He tried to shake her off, yet she kept on, Eloise not one to be taken down easily.</p><p> </p><p>“Get off him, Eloise,” Anthony commanded, attempting to pry the girl off of their brother. “Stop it before you injure him!”</p><p> </p><p>Oddly enough, this <em>worked</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise released Colin, letting Anthony pull her off and help her down.</p><p> </p><p>Colin gasped for air, glaring at his little sister. “See?” he rasped, gradually standing back to his full height. “This right here is probably why Phillip broke up with you! He didn’t want someone like you around his niece and nephew!”</p><p> </p><p>A heartbreaking gasp broke through Eloise.</p><p> </p><p>Kate thought she’d go charging full force ahead at Colin once more, yet she didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>She merely let herself be held by Anthony, his face ashen. “Really, Colin?”</p><p> </p><p>His disappointment was enough to cause nearly all the Bridgertons to look away.</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s Phillip?” Hyacinth whispered to her sisters.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne shushed her.</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, fine,” the girl grumbled. “Don’t tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>Shrugging off Anthony, Eloise stood up. She straightened her sweater and held her chin up high.</p><p> </p><p>“Phillip was my boyfriend,” she announced, loud and declarative. At the surprised looks of her siblings and her mouth, Eloise clucked her tongue, a certain swagger building in her. “Oh yeah. I had a boyfriend! And he’s hot, smart, and knows how to make a fantastic omelet!”</p><p> </p><p>Hands on her hips, Eloise paced the foyer, eyes darting to each and every person in her family.</p><p> </p><p>“I dated him for six months! I lived with him! We had <em>plants</em> together!”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne gasped, touched by this detail.</p><p> </p><p>“And we broke up because I am a fucking coward!” She threw her hands up in the air. “He told me he had custody of his niece and nephew, who’d be moving in soon and I flipped the fuck out and left! In the middle of the night no less.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet started to come down the stairs. “Eloise, why didn’t you say anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh and be the family asshole?” Eloise asked, laughing mockingly at herself. “No thank you. I left a man who loved me because I was gonna be an instant mum and I am not ready for that shit!”</p><p> </p><p>She turned to Colin, chest puffed as she sized him up. “Right <em>there</em>, I was honest! Pen says were a load of fucking liars and I’m not going to be that anymore. I let my dirty laundry out for all our family to see.” She stepped up to him, ready for a fight. “Anything <em>you’d</em> like to share at this impromptu family meeting, Col?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked scared shitless, put on the spot like that. Knowing Eloise, she wasn’t going to take ‘no comment’ for an answer. She’d wait until Colin fessed up. They’d be there all night.</p><p> </p><p>Colin gulped. “I—”</p><p> </p><p>Rapid knocking sound on the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on,” Eloise hissed, ignoring the knocking. Anthony moved to get it, only for his sister whirl on him. “Leave it! No one moves until he speaks!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s face soured. “Eloise—”</p><p> </p><p>The knocking continued, morphing into insistent banging.</p><p> </p><p>“My god!” Eloise pushed past her brothers and swung the door wide open for them all to see. “Who the hell is—”</p><p> </p><p>All words ceased, the girl stunned silent.</p><p> </p><p>Standing in the doorway, with his niece and nephew holding each hand was the last man probably any of them expected to show up at Aubrey Hall.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Phillip</em>?” Eloise rasped.</p><p> </p><p>“Did I come at a bad time?” he asked, looking beyond uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>Oh god, he heard everything.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>REMEMBER ALL THOSE OTHER PLOTS? YEAH ME TOO.</p><p>Some notes....</p><p>1. Anthony and Kate did not sleep together. Why? Because we gotta have some suspense 😂 And I am keeping with some of the book where Kate is a virgin. I found this fitting for many reasons, but especially since in today's age there are a lot of people in their twenties who practice abstinence. </p><p>2. I answered all the chronic headache questions with this chapter. You're welcome. </p><p>3. Penelope left. I always planned on Polin having their falling out.  We'll eventually get more of that picture...👀</p><p>4. PHILLIP IS HERE. AND HE BROUGHT THE KIDS. </p><p>5. And yes, I did add to the chapter count 🙈 could fluctuate back, but I doubt it.</p><p>6. Because I was asked this by a few readers and I am slowly replying to comments--I am *slightly* basing the Bridgerton's company/wealth on the Hearst family. Except way less over the top.</p><p>7. I have playlist made! It is under the same name of the fic on Spotify. I am too lazy to make a link right now (sorry, not sorry) but check back for an edit.</p><p>8. EDIT 3/8/2021: THIS AUTHOR HAS SLIPPED UP! With all the little interactions and mini-plots and the whirlwind that is Kanthony, I forgot  Edwina ALREADY TOLD Gregory about the break-up! I'm sorry for any confusion it caused. An edit to this chapter has been made with a very bad joke I formulated at 4 in the morning but still works for this slightly dimwitted Gregory. ALL IS FIXED!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. A Lesson in Watercolors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HERE WE ARE ON WEDNESDAY/THURSDAY WITH THE CHAPTER I SO PROMISED.</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Phillip</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>The man in question’s eyes darted from Eloise to the rest of the house, and then finally to Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>A flash of apprehension shined in his stare. Justifiably so, considering Anthony did warn him to not bother Eloise, to let whatever had happened between them go. With all he knew, Anthony simply did not want Eloise to experience anymore heartache. She wasn’t one to wallow, or mope, yet this man somehow crumpled her into this existence.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hated him for that.</p><p> </p><p>Swallowing tightly, Phillip’s attention landed back on Eloise. “Did I come at a bad time?”</p><p> </p><p>“I—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>It’s Newton’s Mummy and Daddy</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>The young girl, Amanda, sped past Eloise into the house and rammed into Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>“Whoa there,” he caught her, steadying the child. “Best not to run around in here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Newton?” she demanded, hands clenched on the hem of his sweater. “I know he’s here!”</p><p> </p><p>“Amanda!” Phillip scolded from the entryway. “Come back here!”</p><p> </p><p>The girl’s face scrunched shrewdly, rolling her eyes at her uncle. “Where is he?” she asked Anthony again, eyes sharp on him.</p><p> </p><p>“He is, uh—” He honestly did not know where Newton was laying about at the moment. “—asleep.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda did not believe him, arms dropping from him. “No he isn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes he is,” Anthony told her swiftly, dropping down to her level, undaunted by her impishness. He had four sisters who had their own flare of tantrums in their youth—some still did—Amanda’s outburst was not something he hadn’t dealt with before. “Have you seen how short his legs are? The little guy gets tired very easily.”</p><p> </p><p>Her anger softened, no doubt recalling just how short Newton’s legs were. “Then he should sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nodded sagely. “He should.”</p><p> </p><p>She opened her mouth to speak, only to be lifted up into her uncle’s arms. “Amanda you cannot run into a stranger’s house—no, you cannot run into anyone’s house,” he scolded the girl quietly. Oliver remained at his side, disinterested in the events surrounding him.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not a stranger, he’s Newton’s Daddy,” Amanda insisted.</p><p> </p><p>An aggravated sigh came from Phillip. “Ever since she saw that bloody dog, she hasn’t been able to shut up about him.”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver tugged on his uncle’s jacket. “‘Bloody’ and ‘shut up’ are bad.”</p><p> </p><p>Balancing Amanda with one arm, Phillip dug into his pocket and handed him a single bill. “I promise I won’t say it again. I’ll be better.”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver took the money, unfazed by the remark. Anthony had a feeling this wasn’t the first time Phillip has made such a promise and failed.</p><p> </p><p>“Why the hell is everyone standing around for?” Eloise snapped to the family. “Get out of here! <em>Get out</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip’s eyes screwed shut at her shout.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought we were having a family meeting,” Hyacinth bemoaned. “And it was just getting good.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne, once again, shushed her. “Go back to the room.” She was quick to usher the girls back into the den, though not without grumblings from the youngest.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the family followed their lead, slipping back towards their rooms—that is for Anthony, Violet, and Colin, who stood facing both Phillip and Eloise. Or more so Phillip as Eloise remained rooted by the now shut front door.</p><p> </p><p>“I apologize for the intrusion,” Phillip quickly sputtered, addressing Violet. “I was unaware all of the family would be here, Mrs. Bridgerton.”</p><p> </p><p>“Violet is fine,” she assured him, far too sweet and pleasant. “And it is no intrusion. Any friend of Eloise is a friend of ours.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony swallowed a scoff. He could not be like his mother and pretend everything was fine and dandy when he knew it was not. Not when <em>he</em> was the one who sat with his sister as she cried in the middle of the night over this man. Violet knew nothing and she was only going to make matters worse.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought I told you to keep your distance,” Anthony cut in firmly.</p><p> </p><p>“You did what?” Eloise stepped up to them, arms crossed over her chest. “Why would you do that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I’m your brother and I am here to protect you—”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise groaned, disgusted. “We’ve been over this. I don’t need you to get involved.”</p><p> </p><p>“This was before our talk.” If their shouting match could be called a <em>talk</em>. “Before you told me everything—”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony knows about this?” Violet asked, head whipping between the two. “Why would you tell Anthony about this before me?”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise shrunk at the question; they knew why. They <em>all</em> knew why.</p><p> </p><p>His sister looked at him desperately. “Because…”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sighed. God, she <em>didn’t</em> want him involved, but now she <em>did</em> want him involved. His siblings could never make up their damn mind. “I knew because—”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I can’t talk to you about these things, Mother,” Eloise said, bulldozing Anthony’s attempted excuse. “I can’t. I never have. That’s why Anthony knew because he’s one of the only people I <em>can</em> talk to.” She shrugged, listless. “I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but I’d really appreciate it if you weren’t here right now.” Eloise then glanced over at Colin. “And you too. In fact, I don’t want to see your face for a week.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not possible,” Colin countered, glaring daggers at Phillip. “We live in the same house.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a very big house,” Amanda suddenly chimed in, all reminded at once there were children in the room. “Hide ‘n seek is fun here, huh?” she mumbled in awe, eyes scanning the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise became paralyzed once more at the sight of the children.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony took pity. “The most fun,” he answered Amanda in earnest. “Eloise is actually the best at the game. Maybe tomorrow we can all play.”</p><p> </p><p>The girl beamed at the suggestion.</p><p> </p><p>“They’re not staying,” Eloise said plainly.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Eloise</em>,” Anthony said in warning, “of course they are welcomed to stay. It’s getting late.”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip let out a shaky breath. “This was a mistake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, it was,” Eloise was quick to agree.</p><p> </p><p>The man’s brows pinched and turned sharp to Eloise. “Do you have to have a response to everything? Can I just speak without you provoking?”</p><p> </p><p>Her lips pinched. “No. No I can’t.”</p><p> </p><p>God, Anthony could not stand for another second of this. “Mother,” he turned to Violet, “see about getting a room for Phillip and the twins.”</p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t pleased with the idea of leaving. “Anthony—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” he stressed.</p><p> </p><p>Huffing, his mother left for the East Wing, her shoulders tense.</p><p> </p><p>“You,” Anthony nodded to Colin, “go to your room.”</p><p> </p><p>His brother’s jaw-dropped. “I’m twenty-eight, you can’t tell me to go my room any more like I’m some child!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Go to your room</em>!”  </p><p> </p><p>With a huff, Colin stomped up the stairs, but not without flipping Anthony off.</p><p> </p><p>“Very classy, Colin,” Eloise drawled as he disappeared up the turn of the stairs. “There are children present, you ass!”</p><p> </p><p>“Because shouting ‘ass’ is child appropriate,” Phillip mused, gently setting Amanda back down at his side. He sent another uncomfortable glance Anthony’s way before turning to Eloise. “You’re probably wondering why I am here—”</p><p> </p><p>“Wondering? More like cursing your existence.”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip became exasperated within a second. “I’m here because you all but asked me too, Eloise!”</p><p> </p><p>“No I didn’t,” she spat. “You wanted distance!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I lied</em>!” Phillip boomed, overcome with frustration. “I lied! I lied because I thought it would be best, damn it Eloise!”</p><p> </p><p>“Lying is bad,” Oliver chimed in quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“My god Oliver!” Phillip looked down at his nephew, defeated and vexed all in one bundle. “I <em>know</em> lying is bad!”</p><p> </p><p>The twins flinched.</p><p> </p><p>Phillip immediately deflated, an apologetic mess. “I’m sorry I raised my voice—I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Kids, I think Newton is awake!”</p><p> </p><p>All of them turned to edge of the stairs where Kate stood, away from the epicenter of the chaos. She didn’t hesitate or cower at their stunned, if not annoyed stares. Kate merely stood tall, motioning for the twins to come with her.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on! I have some treats for him in my room and I am sure he’d be happy to see you two again,” Kate assured them, before looking back at Phillip with a pleasant yet confident smile—as though he would dare to counter her. “If that’s alright with you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Please. Take them,” he exhaled, relieved to have the children off his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Great! Let’s go.” She held a hand out to each child. Amanda sprinted to her side and grasped her hand, while Oliver remained more hesitant. He shuffled a bit behind his uncle, eyeing the room warily.</p><p> </p><p>“Oliver, stop being a baby,” Amanda grumbled. “Let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>When he didn’t leave his uncle’s side, Phillip sighed. “Oliver, I need to have a private conversation with my friend. Go with uh—”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate,” Anthony supplied before the woman herself could. He glanced down at Oliver, the boy’s moppy brown hair falling in his face as he stared up at Anthony. “Kate’s my dearest friend, you’ll have plenty of fun with her.”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver shook his head, his thumb finding it’s way into his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s been like that since…” Phillip puffed out a breath. “Since his parents passing, since he started living with me,” he explained quietly. “He can’t seem to leave my side.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nodded once, feeling a lump forming in the back of his throat. “I understand.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise had been the same with him after their father’s death. Afraid he’d go too.</p><p> </p><p>Hunching a little to address Oliver, Anthony held his hand out to the boy. “Your uncle will be here when we get back. He’ll be in the same house, just downstairs. So if you need him, I will run you down to him in a heartbeat.” Anthony crossed an ‘X’ over his chest. “Promise.”</p><p> </p><p>This seemed to ease the boy, he shuffling over to Anthony and taking his hand. A tight grip, but he wasn’t going to complain.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stood back up, eyes darting between Eloise and Phillip. “You have an hour to figure out whatever this is—or at least talk,” he told them. “My study’s open if you’d rather not discuss intimate details of your relationship out in the open.” His eyes darted to the den entryway, where Hyacinth was clearly trying to listen to the conversation.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Anthony,” Eloise gritted out.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Phillip also uttered, but far more gracious than her.</p><p> </p><p>Knowing it best to leave them now before more got out of hand, Anthony began to led Oliver upstairs with Kate and Amanda.</p><p> </p><p>He simply prayed his study would remain intact by the end of the night.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kate did not like to believe in the theory of a ‘dominate twin’—one twin more dominate than the other in their dynamic.</p><p> </p><p>But Amanda and Oliver made it extremely difficult to believe otherwise.</p><p> </p><p>“Uncle Phillip hates messes,” Amanda babbled, dapping the old paint brush into the water color pan, “so we can’t paint or bake or do anything messy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Understandable I think,” Kate mused, laying on her stomach beside the girl. On the floor they had watercolor paper spread out between them, with paints and old brushes.</p><p> </p><p>Kate taught the girl the simple basics of the stroke. Naturally, all of this information went in one ear and out the other.</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s not,” Amanda huffed, feet kicking lazily behind her. “Mummy would let us make messes all the time and we’d clean up afterwards together. Mummy liked fun,” she mumbled, rubbing the paint brush against the paper. "Uncle Phillip hates fun."</p><p> </p><p>Refraining a wince at the girl’s less than stellar care of the brush, Kate glanced over to where Anthony and Oliver sat opposite them. The two were also trying their hand at watercolors.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was failing spectacularly. He did not have great patience with the medium, the colors blending together into a beige-y brown.</p><p> </p><p>Oliver, however…</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Oliver, your picture is lovely,” Kate praised, leaning over to get a better look.</p><p> </p><p>A simple outline of trees with a pretty fade of blue as the sky. It seemed he had a natural talent for the art.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda scowled at this.</p><p> </p><p>“Yours is too,” Anthony was quick to assure the girl. “It’s very Amanda. No else could paint it the way you do.”</p><p> </p><p>This eased her, Amanda resuming her painting.</p><p> </p><p>Kate and Anthony shared a glance, a joined laughter in their eyes.</p><p> </p><p>She felt an incredible swell to tackle him and pepper his face with kisses until his chuckles bubbled out with hers.</p><p> </p><p>But this was not the time or place for that.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony cleared his throat, dipping his brush into the red paint. He spread the color beside his stroke of green—Kate had to suppress a groan. This man knew nothing about color theory, and it showed. “How long have you two been living with your uncle?”</p><p> </p><p>“Almost a month,” Amanda answered. “We were living with Gran and Papa for a while, but then this man in a silly suit—”</p><p> </p><p>“A lawyer,” Oliver corrected, eyes on his painting rather than his sister.</p><p> </p><p>“And this lady—”</p><p> </p><p>“A caseworker,” the boy corrected once more.</p><p> </p><p>“Told us Mummy and Daddy wanted us to live with Uncle Phillip so we moved in with Uncle Phillip.” She shrugged. “I like it with Uncle Phillip more than Gran and Papa. They’re mean.”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver nodded hurriedly.</p><p> </p><p>“But not as much as Mummy and Daddy,” Amanda told them. “Mummy and Daddy were the best.”</p><p> </p><p>Her brother nodded in agreement again. “We miss them. A lot.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” Kate began, dipping her brush into the yellow, “I lost my mummy and daddy too.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s jaw dropped, perhaps stunned that someone else could lose their parents too. “Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not at the same time,” Kate amended, “but my mummy when I was little and my dad when I was older.” She felt small mentioning them together, as though part of her was still a young girl who didn’t understand why her mother was not there one day to the next, and once again that teen wondering how a simple check-up could lead to more. Kate wasn’t one to discuss her loss, preferring to focus on the future and the present. She had not control of the past, but she surely did have some say of her <em>now</em>. But she’d talk about her loss with Amanda and Oliver—they needed to know they weren’t alone. “I miss them too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Even as a grown-up?” Amanda seemed confused by this.</p><p> </p><p>Kate nodded. “But it gets easier.”</p><p> </p><p>“A lot of people say that to us,” Oliver told them.</p><p> </p><p>“Because they don’t know what else to say,” Anthony declared. “But take it from us, it does.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uncle Phillip said his friend Eloise lost her daddy too,” Amanda told him. “He said she’s the smartest, kindest, and bravest person he knows, so Oliver and I will be okay too. And that she’s really pretty.” She rolled her eyes. “I think he likes her. It’s gross.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate snorted.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony snapped his mouth shut, his own laughter struggling to be swallowed down.</p><p> </p><p>“So what if your uncle did like Eloise?” Kate asked, curious of their opinions. “What about it?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda shook her head, dropping down her brush. “I would not like it at all.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” Kate pressed, knowing there must be a reason for a resolute answer.  “Eloise is nice and smart and very good at sports.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because then she’d be like a mummy and I don’t want another mummy!”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda rolled over and crossed her arms over her chest. Wiggling and grumbling, she stood up and marched over to Newton on bed. She climbed up and made herself at home beside the pup.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like you anymore Kate!” came the girl’s muffled shout, face smothered on into the duvet and Newton’s fur.</p><p> </p><p>This time Anthony’s laughter could not be contained, spurts of chuckles tumbling out him. Oliver giggled along with him.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh shut it,” Kate hissed at Anthony, tossing an old paint rag at his face. He only laughed harder at the attack. “I was trying to have a meaningful conversation, no help from you.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s like that all the time,” Oliver explained, cupping his hand to Anthony and Kate. “Very dramatic Uncle says.”</p><p> </p><p>“Overdramatic sisters are the worst aren’t they?” Anthony joked, nudging the boy.</p><p> </p><p>Oliver nodded largely. “I’m glad I only have one.”</p><p> </p><p>A sharp knock rapped on the doorframe. Phillip stood in the doorway, a disgruntled pull on his face. He softened the slightest at the sight of Oliver and Amanda.</p><p> </p><p>“Oliver, Amanda, time to say goodbye to Anthony and Kate. You need to go to bed.”</p><p> </p><p>The twins were displeased with this news.</p><p> </p><p>“But I want to stay with Newton!” Amanda cried out, arms thrown around the dog in a desperate plea.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m painting,” Oliver uttered, far quieter than his sister.</p><p> </p><p>Phillip’s jaw clenched, already frustrated with the two.</p><p> </p><p>Kate sat up, alert. She didn’t want the children to get in trouble or be too disappointed with the night. “We can finish our painting tomorrow, Oliver. Bedtime is bedtime. Let me show you how to clean this up real quick.” She began clearing up their mess, Oliver happy to help.</p><p> </p><p>Which left Anthony with coercing Amanda out of the room. “I’m sorry Amanda, but Newton needs his sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“You said that earlier,” she snapped, pouting. Her grip around Newton tightened. “Dogs don’t sleep that much.”</p><p> </p><p>“This dog does,” Anthony shot back. “And I am sure you are tired too.”</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head…only for a yawn to betray her.</p><p> </p><p>He raised his eyebrows. “See?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know that?”</p><p> </p><p>“I practically raised my little sisters,” he told her, crouched beside the bed, “I know <em>all</em> the tricks you can think of.”</p><p> </p><p>The girl’s eyes widened. “All of them?”</p><p> </p><p>“All of them,” he repeated. “So I think it is best you listen to your uncle before I tell him every single trick in the book—”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda leapt from the bed and dashed to Phillip’s side. “Don’t say a word!” she scolded.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony mimed zipping his lips and threw away the key. “Not a word.”</p><p> </p><p>A grand sigh of relief left Amanda. “I’m ready,” she told Phillip. Oliver soon came to join them, head hanging low.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s heart ached for him.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you again for watching them while Eloise and I…” Phillip shook his head; by the looks of it, things did not go smoothly. But he and children were staying; that was something good to note. “While Eloise and I chatted.”</p><p> </p><p>“No problem.” Kate stood from the floor, all her paints packed away in their case. “I love children.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too,” Anthony assured him. “They were no trouble. We’re always up to hanging out with Oliver and Amanda again.” He spared glance at Kate, getting a nod of reassurance. “If you need someone to watch them, we don’t mind.”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip relaxed at this. “Good, thank you. You have no idea how many babysitters I have gone through in one month with these two. To hear they were actually good,” he blinked rapidly, overwhelmed, “it means a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it sounds like they’ve gone through a lot, so it’s understandable,” Kate said with a shrug, trying not to be too bothered by how Phillip spoke of the twins.</p><p> </p><p>They were children in a weird situation, with their lives uprooted and the two people they perhaps trusted most in the world gone. Children were allowed to not make sense and act irrational, and cause plenty of ‘trouble.’</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you again,” he repeated, stumbling over himself to lead the twins away. “Say goodbye,” he urged them.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda waved, already disinterested with Anthony and Kate. An unsurprising reaction.</p><p> </p><p>Oliver dashed forward, leaping into Kate. “<em>Oh</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” he mumbled, arms wrapped around her middle and face smothered into her stomach.</p><p> </p><p>Patting away his moppy brown curls, she smile down at him. “Of course. Any time you want to paint let me know. Got it?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, holding her tighter.</p><p> </p><p>She gave him a quick final squeeze before urging him on. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Oliver. Have sweet dreams.”</p><p> </p><p>The boy hurried off to his uncle’s side. Muttering their final goodbyes for the night, the little family left her room, leaving Anthony and Kate to themselves.</p><p> </p><p>Kate moved to shut the door, a definitive sigh escaping her. “I don’t want to see another face other than yours for the rest of the night.”</p><p> </p><p>“I agree,” Anthony mumbled, though in a bit of a daze.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay there?” she teased. “Or did Amanda give you war-flashbacks of your sisters?”</p><p> </p><p>He opened and closed his mouth, a smile twitching at the corners. “She did a bit,” he confessed, “but that’s not…” Anthony shook his head. “It’s nothing actually.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Kate poked his chest, confused by how quickly he was closing off, “it’s something. Tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>When she went to poke him again, he caught her hand. Anthony brought her closer to him, clasping her hand to his chest. “I just…” He leaned in close to her ear. “Really, really, really like…how you paint,” he said simply, pulling away with a smug smile.</p><p> </p><p>She hated how breathless he made her, and all for the sake of a poor-joke and to make her bothered. Kate shoved his chest. “Well, I really, really, really <em>don’t</em> like how you paint,” she taunted back.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Excuse me</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate giggled at his shock. “I once believed anyone was capable of painting but you have proved me wrong—mixing all those colors together into a brown was an atrocity.”</p><p> </p><p>“An atrocity?” He echoed inching forward. She shuffled back towards the door eyes locked on him as Anthony followed her. “You wound me, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“I doubt it.” She leaned back against door, thoroughly boxed in by him. “If I truly wounded you, you’d be a huffy and puffy mess.”</p><p> </p><p>He would be—all red in the face, mouth twisted in an aggravated scowl, and brows pinched together. A picture perfect image of frustration, upset, and hurt because Anthony did not know how to contain himself well.</p><p> </p><p>At least, he did not know how to contain himself around her.</p><p> </p><p>His forehead pressed lightly against hers, a gentle longing glistening in his eyes. “May I stay here tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to ask.”</p><p> </p><p>“I want to ask.”</p><p> </p><p>Her gut tumbled at his quick response. “Yes,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek, “you may.”</p><p> </p><p>His mouth met hers in a heat kiss, hands gripping her in feverish delight with no intention of letting her go any time soon.</p><p> </p><p>Kate did not resist a bit, she wanting to stay wrapped in his arms for as long as possible.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You know the longer you stare, the more the family is going to think you are head over heels in love with her.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony turned to his right to find Francesca taking the seat beside him out on the patio.</p><p> </p><p>He turned back to the stack of magazines on the table, picking up the one from the top. All Bridgerton Media Publications magazines, monthly subscriptions. Just because he was out in the countryside didn’t mean he was to fall behind on the little duties concerning his position, such as merely keeping up with the print. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”</p><p> </p><p>She sighed, sipping her tea with an air of imperiousness. She followed his line of gaze out to the grass where Kate sat with Oliver, the two continuing their little art session from the night previous. Amanda had turned up her nose at the suggestion of painting, choosing to remain at her uncle’s side; more so, Amanda chose to remain at her uncle’s side whenever he decided to be in the company of Eloise.</p><p> </p><p>The girl was trying to be her Uncle Phillip’s defender. A sweet, but tiresome gesture.</p><p> </p><p>“You do know what I am talking about,” Francesca countered, picking up the next magazine in the stack—their travel magazine, a photo of the Scottish highlands on the front. “If you didn’t you wouldn’t have made a remark at all.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony chose to remain silent. Better to keep quiet, than accidently reveal anything incriminating.</p><p> </p><p>As much as he tried to focus on the article in front of him, his attention ever so slowly drifted back to Kate.</p><p> </p><p>She sat on the grass with Oliver, a blanket set out under them as they quietly painted together. Every so often, she’d lean over to the boy, giving him gentle pointers and praises on his work.</p><p> </p><p>Like a kind teacher…Or a doting mother.</p><p> </p><p>His chest tightened.</p><p> </p><p>A shaky exhale quaked out of him, Anthony blinking down at the page before him. When he couldn’t focus again, he dropped the magazine on his lap and cleaned his glasses with the hem of his shirt.</p><p> </p><p>Beside him Francesca tutted. “These are all boring.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s one of our highest selling magazines.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyebrows jumped. “Really?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nodded once, slipping glasses back in place. “Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Colin’s blog is better than this,” she flipped the page, “why don’t you have him write for <em>Travel &amp; Life</em>?” She paused. “Is that what it is really called?”</p><p> </p><p>He gave her a begrudging smirk. “Unfortunately, yes. And before you ask, I cannot change it. It’s been the same for seventy-three years.”</p><p> </p><p>Her brows shot up. “That’s…”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“…<em>terrible</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” he repeated. “But these names have been the same for years. Before any of us we’re even a thought. I simply cannot change them or else there’ll be an uproar and with the way social media is,” he rolled his eyes, another sigh rattling through him, “there is no point of rocking the boat for the sake of rocking the boat. As I’ve learned from my past mistakes certain kinds of nostalgia are key. We keep the tradition of our titles and be progressive on paper and behind the scenes. In fact, I can proudly say Bridgerton Media Publications is the leading front in—” He stopped, turning to Francesca. “I’m sorry. I am probably boring you. You’ve never been interested in this stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>His sister’s eyes narrowed. “I have <em>always</em> been interested in the family business.” Head held up high, she leaned back in her chair, magazine open on the table between them. “You’ve never asked.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Anthony did not know what to say; he knew he didn’t always speak to Francesca—and he was trying to fix that—but he was once again floored by just how little he paid attention to her.</p><p> </p><p>“You do know my studies are in journalism, don’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>He did <em>not</em> know.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you studied music.” He distinctly remembered attending several piano recitals throughout her childhood. One after another it felt. Sitting through her playing her solos, then as an accompanist to her school’s musical performances.</p><p> </p><p>Francesca played music. He specifically ticked her off as the ‘Musically-Inclined-Bridgerton’ in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>“Just because I play the piano doesn’t mean I study music.” She poured over <em>Travel &amp; Life </em>again. “You never answered my question—why doesn’t Colin write for this magazine? He writes, he travels, he offers a fresh perspective.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because Colin doesn’t want to have anything to do with the family business,” Anthony stated, feeling awkward acknowledge the fact. At Francesca’s unwavering stare, he knew he had to shed a bit more light on the situation. “I don’t know if you have noticed, but Colin has never been a fan of the family business.” Picking up a sticky-note from the small stack beside him, he marked his page and closed the magazine in his hand. “He wasn’t like Benedict who at least tried, or like myself who simply took it up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you had no choice.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s head whipped to her, baffled by her bluntness. “That’s…an acute observation.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not an observation if it is true,” Francesca argued. “I don’t remember father well,” she began, fiddling with the corner of a page, “to be perfectly honest, ever single time I think of him, your face and his face become the same,” she shook her head, keeping her eyes on the spread before her, “but I’d like to think he’d want you to do something that makes you happy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Being part of the family business makes me happy,” Anthony said, the words flying out of his mouth on instinct—better yet, defense, “keeping the legacy of our father, our grandfather, and great-grandfathers alive <em>is</em> important to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“But does running it make you happy?” Francesca asked. “Does being head of all this,” she motioned to the magazines on the table, “and much, much, more make you happy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not all work is meant to fulfill us, Francesca.” He picked up his tea, taking a sip to distract himself. He did not like the turn this conversation was taking. “Some of us need to find other outlets to fulfill our needs for happiness and contentment, in our careers, family, life…”</p><p> </p><p>“How do you fulfill your needs in your career, then? If the company does not make you happy?” she demanded, sitting at attention.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony did not answer. In fact, he ignored the question altogether. “So you study journalism?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she said, continuing her peruse of the magazine, “and I need an internship to round out my final year. I am going to intern with you.”</p><p> </p><p>He balked at the suggestion, nay <em>demand</em>. “Why on earth would you want to intern for <em>me</em>?” Shifting in his seat, he scratched at his neck. “I’m not someone you want to intern with—and it wouldn’t exactly be fair if you applied for the company’s internship program. I can connect you with some other people outside of the company—”</p><p> </p><p>“I want to intern with you because I intend to run Bridgerton Media Publications one day,” she told him, blue eyes sharp and piercing. “Or at the very least be head of one of the departments.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you intend to usurp me, Franny?” Anthony asked, not too sure if he was impressed or appalled.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps,” she shrugged, not speaking further on the matter. “By the way, John and Michael will be arriving this evening.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right…” He muttered, staring back out towards the hill Kate and Oliver sat. “Which one is John and which one is Michael again?” he winced out.</p><p> </p><p>Francesca stood up with a huff. “You’ll figure it out when they get here. In the meantime, stop drooling at Kate and go join her and Oliver.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have work—”</p><p> </p><p>With frightening speed and strength, Francesca collected his stack of magazines and notes. “<em>I</em> have work. Consider this an early start on my internship.”</p><p> </p><p>Turning on her heel, she disappeared back into the house, taking his work with her.</p><p> </p><p>Part of Anthony wanted to listen to her orders. To go join Kate. Pull at a loose curl, get her to swat at him. Watch as she painted; how intense and focus she’d get on her task, her expression softening with each and every stroke as her vision appeared on paper.</p><p> </p><p>He could sit with her, observe her every little twitch and move, all day and never be tired of her.</p><p> </p><p>Beside her, he’d think of how she’d teach a child with his chestnut curls and her dark, clever eyes to use watercolors. How she’d chase them through the hills of Aubrey Hall and smother them with love and kisses. How they’d play field games together, dance together on patio, put together play performances in the den with the entire family, tell each silly and scary stories as they tucked their child into bed. How they’d spend the summer together as a family—him, her, and this child who’d be perfect because he was <em>theirs</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Yet Anthony stayed seated, thrilled and petrified by this daydream.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Matters with Phillip were not great.</p><p> </p><p>But they also weren’t <em>terrible</em>?</p><p> </p><p>To be perfectly honest, Eloise felt they had reached an impasse.</p><p> </p><p>She loved him, wanted to be with him, but did not know if she was prepared for what a relationship with Phillip would now entail—i.e. becoming a substitute mother-figure for two seven year olds at the age of twenty-three.</p><p> </p><p>He loved her, wanted to be with her, but was now second-guessing if she was mature enough to handle this change in his life—i.e. to be a parent figure to two seven year olds, who maybe did not like her as much as he wanted them to.</p><p> </p><p>So in actuality, they were in agreement, in strange twist of events. Yet at the same time they weren’t.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean you want an answer by the end of the week?” Eloise asked, her feet coming to a stop on the nature trail. Phillip, a botanist and Ph.D. candidate, had been keen to examine the plants and foliage surrounding Aubrey Hall during his stay. Naturally, Eloise volunteered to give him a tour, knowing this would be her only opportunity (since their round-about arguing the previous night) to speak with him. <em>Alone</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda had been attached to Phillip’s hip since she woke up and wouldn’t leave his side.</p><p> </p><p>That is until Violet announced she needed help baking sweets. The girl abandoned them at the mention of cake.</p><p> </p><p>“I meant what I said,” Phillip shot back, “I want an answer by the end of the week. I spoke to your brother and he said the children and I can stay as long as we want—”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn, Anthony,” she hissed under her breath.</p><p> </p><p>“—but I personally don’t feel comfortable staying longer than the week. I don’t want to intrude.”</p><p> </p><p>“Trust me, the intruders are my siblings,” Eloise grumbled, kicking a stray rock in her path. “But why a week? I need more time—”</p><p> </p><p>“How much more time can I <em>possibly</em> give you, Eloise?” Phillip asked, aghast. “It’s been nearly a month. Our conversations have been sporadic and I cannot wait for you to make up your mind when I need to start moving forward with my life!”</p><p> </p><p>“Move forward with your life?” Her mind flipped at the phrase. “You are a Ph.D. candidate who will more than likely continue on to be professor and spend all your free time on doing your research! You’re an academic, what could you possibly move forward with?”</p><p> </p><p>His mouth downturned on her shewed description of his work. “I don’t know, maybe the fact I have children to care for? Or maybe look at other career options after I obtain my Ph.D.? Or I don’t know, move on from a woman who is <em>driving me nuts</em> every waking minute?”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise snapped her mouth shut, arms crossed over her chest. “If I am driving you nuts, then why are you even here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I love you, damn it!” Phillip fumed. “What do you want, Eloise? First you want me here, you miss me and then the next it’s like you are trying to shove me away and want me gone! You cannot have it both ways.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise hated it when he was right. She couldn’t have it both ways, no matter how hard she tried.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know!” She threw her hands up, flustered. “I don’t know, okay? Because this is very scary for me, okay? Very, very scary!” Her voice cracked, her face crumpling. “I love you too, but…but I’m not ready to do the parenting thing. Hell, I never even wanted kids.”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip’s shoulders slouched, his massive frame becoming smaller and smaller as he fell into himself. “I never wanted kids either,” he confessed. The sun hung high in the sky, cutting through the branches of the trees and down upon their heads. Phillip squinted at her, battling the shine of the sun. “I thought I’d always be the nerdy uncle who liked house plants too much.” He swallowed tightly. “But then George and Marina…” A watery, shaky exhale came from him. “My parents are shit.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Eloise rested a hand on his bicep, rubbing soothing circles into his arm. “I know. You don’t have to…”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” he interjected. “It’s fine. They aren’t the best. And I understand why George would choose me. I understand what I agreed to when he put me down in their will. I just…I just never thought—” He hastily wiped his nose and under his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m the only family those kids got left. And I am going to fuck it up, Eloise. I know I am.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you won’t,” she was quick to assure him, hating seeing him so broken. Phillip didn’t deserve to be broken when he did nothing wrong; he was just trying to be a good brother, a decent guardian.</p><p> </p><p>“But what got me through all of that was…it was knowing at least I’ll have you by my side through it all.”</p><p> </p><p>She shrank at the pain laced in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“And I thought when I told you about them, Amanda and Oliver, that I’d have this burden lifted off of me. That I wouldn’t have to lie or hide them because I was scared you’d run away.” A mocking laughter cut through him. “Which is rich considering you <em>did</em> run.”</p><p> </p><p>Eyes watering, Eloise hugged herself. “If…if I confirmed your worst fear by running away, why are you still talking to me? Why are you still fighting for me? I don’t understand…”</p><p> </p><p>“Because love makes you do stupid shit,” Phillip answered, not holding back his tears this time. “Like searching for the Bridgerton ancestral home in Kent with only a landline at your disposal. Or packing up bag and the kids and telling them we are going on a trip because you have to see this woman because it feels like air cannot get into your lungs since she’s been gone, that’s why Eloise!”</p><p> </p><p>Tears could not stop falling from her eyes not matter how hard Eloise scrubbed at her face.</p><p> </p><p>“God, that’s a pretty good reason,” she said between sob-like hiccups. “Damn good, really.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you are scared,” Phillip said, open and honest, as she knew him to be. “I’m scared too. But if anyone can do this, it’s us. Together. Because you’re my person. You know how to make things better. How to make a grumpy scholar smile.” His watery chuckle embraced the space between them. “I can’t do this without you. And I don’t want to.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise couldn’t take it anymore. She obliterated the distance between them and kissed her grumpy, teary, mess of a man. A strong, firm, apologetic kiss she ended as soon as she started. Her hands shook, trying to hold his face without bringing him into another kiss and another. God, she missed him, but she need to talk to him and not waver away for a second. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he echoed back, pecking a light kiss back, arms bringing her close to his chest. “I am. For lying.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry for running. And making this hell. I didn’t need to.”</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed, near gasping for air. “Does this mean—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she practically exclaimed, “yes. I want this. Us. And everything with it. This kids, the studies, the plants—oh god, I am sorry I am shit at watering the plants. I just forget about them and—”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip silenced her with an urgent, rough kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“You talk too damn much,” he said against her lips. “I missed it.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise playfully bumped her nose with his. “Then give me a reason <em>not</em> to talk.”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip was more than up for the challenge.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Less than a day of painting with Oliver, Kate was already running low on her personal supply.</p><p> </p><p>“You stay here, Oliver.” Kate stood from their blanket, dusting off any grass that found its way on to her trousers and t-shirt. “I need to go grab some more watercolor pallets, okay? Hang tight.” She gave his hair a quick ruffle before heading down the hill towards the pool house.</p><p> </p><p>Glancing over to the patio, she spotted Anthony sitting by himself, drinking his tea.</p><p> </p><p>She frowned, retracing her steps to take her up to him.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?” she asked, hands resting on her waist.</p><p> </p><p>“Sitting,” he answered, smug. He grabbed a stray pen from the table, clicking it open and close. Open then close. He did it again, slower this time, watching for her reaction.</p><p> </p><p>Kate rolled her eyes and snatched the pen from his hand. “I know that. I meant what are you doing right now besides the sitting?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was working then Francesca stole my work, so…” he drawled out, tilting his head up at her. “I suppose you can say my afternoon is free.”</p><p> </p><p>“You should join Oliver and I,” she motioned to the blanket Oliver remained seated on, the boy lost in his own little world. “I can teach you how to watercolor. Better than how you were doing last night.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought I was unteachable?” he shot back, raising his eyebrows. “What was the word you used.” He feigned thought, snapping his fingers a second later as though the idea came out of thin air. “Ah yes! My work was an atrocity.”</p><p> </p><p>“Atrocities are manageable.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you like managing things, don’t you Kate?” Anthony teased.</p><p> </p><p>“Some people were born to manage,” she told him, pleased with herself, “I am one of those people.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s say I <em>do</em> go paint with you,” he mused, rubbing at his jaw, “what do I get out of this?”</p><p> </p><p>“A new skill set.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing <em>else</em>?” The implication was not lost on her, Kate’s face warming at his tone. A tease all the same, but suggestive nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing <em>you</em> are think about,” she snipped back, arms crossed over her chest. She nudged her foot with his. “Come on! Don’t be a fuddy-duddy. Come be with us. I don’t like seeing you in all your lonesome.”</p><p> </p><p>Giving a melodramatic sigh, Anthony stood to his feet. “Fine, you convinced me. Watercolors it is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Great!” She grinned, taking his hand to lead him towards the pool house. “I just need to pick up a few more supplies from Benedict’s studio and then we’ll be good to go.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s probably still asleep.” Anthony warned. “Benedict is not usually an early riser. I didn’t see him at breakfast.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know he’s been invested in a project,” Kate informed him as they came up to the pool house door. “He has a spot he’s been going to up in the trail. I caught him briefly yesterday.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good, that means he’s still alive and hasn’t became a hermit again,” he remarked.</p><p> </p><p>“Ha, ha, ha,” Kate deadpanned, “of course he’s alive. Not all artists are recluses.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony leaned against the doorframe beside her. “So you have never became a recluse in the name of art?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate paused, considering the question. Sure, she had a few instances where she spent the day—as in a singular day—sitting in front of her piece, but never for days on end. She had responsibilities, Newton and her job a prime example.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I can say I have not.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t believe you,” Anthony was swift to counter, pushing himself off the doorframe. “I think you have, but you’ve rationalized it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Rationalized?” she uttered, twisting the doorknob. “Why would I rationalize something like that?”</p><p> </p><p>“To justify your choices.” Pushing open the door, Kate entered the studio, Anthony right behind her. “To not be too odd. You get to toe the line of a ‘real’ artist while not inhabiting some of the trademark quirks.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what are trademark quirks you speak of?” she asked, bypassing the kitchenette for the main living-work space.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hummed, a half snort to his musing. “Just take a look around Benedict’s studio and you’ll find the answer.”</p><p> </p><p>Scanning where she had last set the watercolors, Kate frowned. “I swear, every single time I come in here, everything has been moved.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds about right,” Anthony waded through the mess, nose wrinkling as he passed the laundry covered sofa. Neither could tell if the clothes were clean or dirty, and neither wanted to know. “He likes to operate on organized chaos. Always has.”</p><p> </p><p>“More like chaos sans any organization whatsoever,” she mumbled. She sifted through a crate of assorted paints, hoping she’d at least spot one watercolor pallet in the mess.</p><p> </p><p>“What am I supposed to be looking for?” Anthony joined the search with more gusto, digging through a couple of nearby drawers.</p><p> </p><p>“Sort of like how my watercolors look? A longer pallet, with various colors,” she tried, moving on to another crate on top of an old sofa table.</p><p> </p><p>She’d only been looking for a few seconds when Anthony’s arms slithered around her middle from behind. His face nuzzled into her neck and hair, inhaling deeply. “You know, we are alone,” he murmured, his lips pressed against the curve of her neck. “And I have been thinking of this morning…”</p><p> </p><p>Heat pooled in her at the thought what had happened. How his lips and mouth paid certain attention to her collarbone, her chest, her beasts enough to make her wither in ways she could have never imagined.</p><p> </p><p>Kate cleared her throat, staring down at the crate of paints before her with new and determined focus. “We are <em>not</em> going to do anything like that in here,” she stressed.</p><p> </p><p>Yet his hands roamed further up, thumbs brushing the underside of her breast. Even though layers of clothes, she could feel her resolve plummeting, wanting his hands on her, skin to skin.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony—” She turned in his hold, facing him. “As much as I want to, I’m not going to do anything in your brother’s studio—” His lips dragged up the length of her neck to the underside of her jaw, a sharp inhale shooting through her. Her hands clenched his forearms. “We cannot—it would upset him—”</p><p> </p><p>“All the more reason to,” he chuckled against her skin. The vibrations of his words caused a shiver to tingle from within her.</p><p> </p><p>“There is a child outside waiting for us,” she reminded him.</p><p> </p><p>Somehow this caused his attentions to become fevered and desperate. Just for a moment—</p><p> </p><p>Then he stopped, face merely pressed into her hair, his breath hot by her ear. “You are magnificent.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Know that.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s gentle smile made it incredibly difficult to pull away. When they were together, he treated her like she was the only one who mattered; as if there was never any other thought in his mind, but her.</p><p> </p><p>She did not know if she was moved by this, or letting her imagination get the best of her.</p><p> </p><p>“I, uh, I think the watercolors…” she swallowed tightly, hampering down the need to pull him back to her, to stop the distance Anthony was slowly easing between them—as though he were waiting for her to yank him back into her arms, “…that the uh, watercolors are—”</p><p> </p><p>Just as she was attempting a justification to escape to the other side of the room, the bedroom door opened.</p><p> </p><p>Except it wasn’t Benedict who stepped out.</p><p> </p><p>A slender man with ashy blonde hair and the most intense yet kind green eyes stood right outside Benedict’s bedroom door.</p><p> </p><p>And he was completely naked.</p><p> </p><p>Kate yelped, hands flying to her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>The man was no better, hurrying to dash back into the bedroom—</p><p> </p><p>However, Anthony turned around before Kate could stop him.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Who was that</em>?” He was already marching across the room to the shut bedroom door.</p><p> </p><p>“No one!” Kate sputtered out, trying to out walk Anthony. She moved fast, but not fast enough to match the length of his stride in such a congested room. It took jumping right into his path to stop him from ripping open the door. “No one you need to be concerned with Anthony!”</p><p> </p><p>He stepped left.</p><p> </p><p>She stepped to her right.</p><p> </p><p>He stepped to his right, and she matched at her left.</p><p> </p><p>Every which way he tried to bypass her, Kate was there in front of him. Daring him to not even bother with getting past her.</p><p> </p><p>Hands resting on his hips, he stared down at her being every bit of the commanding leader he could be. “Kate, get out of my way.”</p><p> </p><p>This did nothing to her—no fear, no hesitation, no cowardice at his dominating demeanor. Kate stood to her full height, arms crossed and head held high. “Anthony, you don’t need to go in there.”</p><p> </p><p>“There is a man I do not recognize in my brother’s bedroom—”</p><p> </p><p>“And maybe your brother <em>wants</em> him in his bedroom,” Kate hissed.</p><p> </p><p>“I do not care if he does,” Anthony gritted back, exasperated. “But I like to know who is on my property.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony, you don’t need to know every little detail—”</p><p> </p><p>Behind her the door swung open.</p><p> </p><p>She whirled around to find Benedict in the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe while one hand remained on the edge of the door, keeping it firmly in place and not any wider. Thankfully, he was partially dressed, wearing dark blue pajama bottoms.</p><p> </p><p>“Good day love birds,” Benedict greeted, “didn’t know I’d be blessed with your presence at such an early hour.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s half past noon,” Anthony deadpanned, not even bothering to check his watch. He had an eerie sense of time, almost always able to make an near accurate guess when asked for the time.</p><p> </p><p>“So you understand,” he nodded to the two, “it’s early.”</p><p> </p><p>“We have two very different definitions of ‘early’,” Anthony muttered. Neither Kate nor Anthony slept in late, both early risers.</p><p> </p><p>“What brings you two here?” Benedict asked, eyes darting between Kate and Anthony. “Other than trying to have an afternoon delight in my studio.”</p><p> </p><p>Embarrassment consumed her. “No! No, it was nothing like that—”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict’s eyebrows shot up. “Lady doth protest too much.”</p><p> </p><p>She scowled at the half-correct quote. “We weren’t doing anything. In fact, we came here looking for watercolors since I am running low.” At his confused expression, Kate explained further. “I’ve been teaching Phillip’s nephew to paint with watercolors—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Phillip</em>?” Benedict’s back became ramrod straight at the mention of the man. “As in Eloise’s Phillip? What the hell is he doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you been living under a damn rock?” Anthony spat. “He’s been here since last night! Showed up out of the blue with kids in tow!”</p><p> </p><p>“And no one thought to tell me?” Benedict looked beyond put-out. “This is important!”</p><p> </p><p>“Like the fact you have a guest?” Anthony’s question was quick and sharp, stilling his brother in an instant.</p><p> </p><p>The brothers remained in a stand-off, waiting for the other to budge. Anthony waiting for Benedict to answer him and Benedict waiting for Anthony to leave him the hell alone. Neither were going to get what they want like this.</p><p> </p><p>Yet neither needed to do anything as the door was pulled further open, revealing the man from earlier—this time dressed.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict froze, eyes leaping from Anthony to the man beside him.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” he began, giving a small almost bashful wave, “I’m Ethan Beckett. Didn’t really intend on us meeting this way—”</p><p> </p><p>“Bridgertons have no sense of personal space or privacy,” Kate assured him, earning affronted glares from both Bridgerton men. “Just be glad it’s us and not one of the other siblings,” she joked, hoping to lighten the mood.</p><p> </p><p>And she did, Ethan visibly relaxing. His eyes darted to Anthony. “You must be the older brother and you,” his focus landed on Kate, “the girlfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony and Kate shared a glance, then amended their statements.</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Ethan stared at them, puzzled. “Is it ‘yes’ or ‘no’?”</p><p> </p><p>“They are an ‘it’s complicated,’” Benedict explained. “It’s all very new. I can tell.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s glare on his brother deepened, while Kate decided to ignore the subject altogether. “When did you arrive?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Yesterday,” Ethan answered. “Excited to be here. And meet the rest of the family.” His shaky exhale told her he was more nervous than anything.</p><p> </p><p>Kate beamed. “I am too. Trust me, they’ll love you.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict flinched at this. “As much as I love catching up with all of you and making these hasty introductions, don’t you have a child to paint with?” he asked the two.</p><p> </p><p>“Right!” Kate clapped her hands together. “Where are the watercolors?”</p><p> </p><p>“I moved them all to the cabinet by the door. I figured you’d need them soon and wanted them to be somewhere easy to find.” He then winced. “But I never communicated that did I?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate chuckled a little. “Nope, you did not.” Sensing the conversation was beyond over, she grasped Anthony’s hand and began to lead him away. He didn’t resist her, letting her drag him along. “We are off then! Thank you! And it was lovely meeting you Ethan!”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict muttered brief goodbye before shutting the door—<em>firmly</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony frowned.</p><p> </p><p>Choosing to not acknowledge his apparent silence, Kate gathered a couple of watercolor pallets and had them take their leave.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t until they were outside, making their way over to Oliver, did Anthony finally speak.</p><p> </p><p>“You knew about Ethan?” he asked quietly, halting a few paces away from Kate and Oliver’s spot.</p><p> </p><p>Unable to read his closed off expression, Kate decided honesty was the best policy, not considering herself a liar. “Yes. I did. Benedict sort of just let it out one day and…” She chewed her lips together, wondering it there was a way to assuage the matter rather than possibly make it worse. “And I listened.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve always known, if that’s what you are wondering,” Anthony said, his tone lighter than she expected. “I’ve known since we were boys. He didn’t have to say anything, or come out because I think he knew I knew and didn’t feel the need.” He squinted at her, the sun resting high above and behind her. “I just always thought he’d tell me first. When he found the one.”</p><p> </p><p>His attempt to hide his disappointment failed, Kate seeing through his unbothered façade. </p><p> </p><p>“How do you know Ethan is ‘the one’?” Kate asked, finding the declaration to be presumptuous. Benedict was clearly besotted with Ethan, Kate knew that much, but that did not mean there was possibility for the long-term between them. She did not have room to make such a judgement.</p><p> </p><p>“Because he brought him here,” Anthony told her, as though it were obvious. “Benedict has never brought anyone to Aubrey Hall…” He paused, looking out over her shoulder. “None of us have ever brought a significant other to Aubrey Hall—until now that is.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes met hers for a fleeting second, before looking back out towards the pool house. “But I’m happy he’s happy. At least, I hope he is happy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think he is,” Kate said, hugging the pallets to her chest. “I think Benedict is happy. He just…doesn’t know how to share it with everyone else yet.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hummed, not quite in agreement, but a deep acknowledgement all the same. “I suppose. I guess it is a good thing I trust your judgement then.” He nodded to the pallets in her arms. “We best get those to Oliver if we are to paint.”</p><p> </p><p>He resumed their trek, Kate quick to catch up with him. “So you <em>will</em> be painting with us, then? Not just mixing colors together to get on my nerves?”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled. “Now why would I do <em>that</em>?” </p><p> </p><p>Kate swatted at him with her free hand, his taunting laughter charming her ears. It seemed Anthony could never stop charming her, no matter how hard Kate tried to resist. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>SO. MUCH. HAPPENED. AHHHH.</p><p>But when doesn't a lot happen? lol.</p><p>Some Notes~</p><p>1. We got some unexpected family feels in this! AND AMANDA CALLED KATE AND ANTHONY NEWTON'S MUMMY AND DADDY! YOU'RE WELCOME.</p><p>2. Francesca and Anthony bonding! After re-reading both TVWLM and WHWW I have came to the conclusion the two siblings are oddly similar in some ways. Like...it bums me out they hardly ever interact in the series. So I am slowly remedying that with this universe. </p><p>3. I had no intention of dragging out the Eloise-Phillip-Will-They-Won't-They- Make-Up-Your-Mind situation any longer than necessary. In fact... Phillip was *supposed to* come earlier in the original outline. But certain storylines *Kate and Anthony* took some precedence. Gotta balance the angst with heartfelt moments ya know?</p><p>4. ETHAN. ETHAN IS HERE. Ahhhhhhhhh.</p><p>5. Okay I feel like I need to address this based on the responses from the previous chapter--ANTHONY WILL BE FINE. His headaches aren't going to be anything bad. Promise. Yes, there might be angst and reactions on his behalf in relation to this, but he WILL be fine. </p><p>6. THE PLAYLIST IS LIVE ON SPOTIFY! It's under the same name as the fic. Let me know what you think and if you have an song suggestions; I might just add them to the playlist! Also, I apologize for the ridiculous amount of alternative pop-rock on the playlist, lol.</p><p>7. This author slipped up last chapter! With the whirlwind of the mini-plots and Kanthony (or is it Kathony? Please tell me as I am still sort of  'new' to the fandom and I feel like there is friction in regard to the ship name) I FORGOT EDWINA ALREADY TOLD GREGORY ABOUT THE BREAK-UP! I fixed it with a lame joke I came up with at 4AM but it works, bahahahaha. Sorry for any confusion it caused!</p><p>Anyways....let me know what you think! :)</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Conversations of the Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please know I am slowly replying to comments and hope to get to all of them soon! I love hearing what you all have to say!</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :)</p><p>P.S. There is some angst in this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Handsome, charming, and a terrible flirt were a few ways to describe Michael Stirling, cousin of John Stirling and friend of Francesca Bridgerton.</p><p> </p><p>But Kate decided ‘thoughtful’ was a better attribute to ascribe to him than any.</p><p> </p><p>He’d been pleasant and attentive from the moment he stepped into Aubrey Hall, swooping in to plant a kiss on Violet’s hand at first greeting.</p><p> </p><p>“Why you must be the esteemed Mrs. Bridgerton. Might I say your beauty defies all age. If I were ten years older, my dear, we’d have trouble on our hands.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet’s besotted giggles caused Anthony to roll his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Kate nudged him. <em>Hard</em>. Right in his ribs.</p><p> </p><p>She smirked at his wince.</p><p> </p><p>Michael made note to greet every single family member and guest at Aubrey Hall, at least those who’d been around at his arrival, same as his cousin. And while John was kind and sweet, and clearly the apple of Francesca’s eye…</p><p> </p><p>The cousin had a way with people unlike John.</p><p> </p><p>Hell, he even charmed the likes of Eloise, who had just returned from her hike with Phillip.</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise,” he nodded to her, “pleased to meet Francesca’s favorite sister—” Note, he said this to <em>all</em> the sisters. “—I hear your studies are going well. Once you are done with your thesis I’d love to read your work.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” her eyebrows jumped up.</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely,” he assured her, “I am always up for learning something new.”</p><p> </p><p>On the other side of her Kate was positive Hyacinth swooned, watching the man go from one person to the other, from congratulating Simon and Daphne on their expectancy to Colin on his book deal then to Anthony on the success of the company.</p><p> </p><p>Michael seemingly knew everything about everyone—even <em>her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“The splendid Kate.” He gave her hug and a kiss to the cheek, as though they were familiar friends. “Let me just say it is an honor to meet you.” He dropped his voice lower, dropping her in on a little secret. “Franny tells me you are the most Bridgerton person to live and you are not even one by blood or name.” He winked. “<em>Yet</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony coughed. Loudly.</p><p> </p><p>Michael’s grin only grew. “I hope we get to spend time together during our stay, Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I’d</em> like to spend time with you during your stay,” Hyacinth chimed in, leaning into Kate’s side to further capture the man’s attention.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure we will,” Michael said kindly, the energy far more brotherly than he gave to anyone else in the room. He moved on to join his cousin and Francesca at the base of the stairs with Violet.</p><p> </p><p>“I love him,” Hyacinth sighed, clutching on to Kate’s arm for support. She watched at the man moved around the room, another girlish-longing sigh escaping the teenager when Michael laughed at something Francesca said.</p><p> </p><p>“No, you don’t,” Anthony gritted out.</p><p> </p><p>Gregory, however, snorted. “He’s ten years your senior, Hyacinth. Find another and move on. It’s never going to happen.”</p><p> </p><p>She spun on him, mouth in a sour line. “How dare you say that! I can absolutely woo him and make him mine in a few years’ time. Look at Daphne and Simon!”</p><p> </p><p>The couple in question sent her a curious glance before continuing on their way back to the sunroom where they’d been at work. In their eyes, Hyacinth was being Hyacinth and there was little to engage with when she got into one of her moods.</p><p> </p><p>“They have an age gap,” Hyacinth insisted, only to received matching looks of amusement from Anthony and Gregory. “This family has a habit of dating those a good few years older or younger than them—I am merely following the trend!”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re sixteen,” Anthony stressed, “there are no trends for you to follow in regards to men or dating. All that has happened is you have seen an attractive man and you are feeling things—”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth marched up the stairs back to her room before Anthony could finish.</p><p> </p><p>He sighed as he watched his youngest sister go. “Works every time.”</p><p> </p><p>Gregory frowned. “Wait, do you do that to all of us when you don’t want us around? Make borderline ‘dad’ comments—”</p><p> </p><p>“Do I?” Anthony cut in, unfazed by the question.</p><p> </p><p>“You are evil,” Gregory declared, both in awe and horror.</p><p> </p><p>“Am I?” he questioned. “Or am I absurdly clever?”</p><p> </p><p>When Gregory didn’t have an immediate response, Anthony turned back to Kate. “I’m going to make sure the Stirlings are settled alright and see where Francesca ran off with my work.” He began to leave, only to turn back around. “I’ll see you at dinner, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate smiled at his sudden apprehension—as though she’d be anywhere else that evening than sitting beside him. “Of course.”</p><p> </p><p>His confidence returned, an new urgency flooded his step as he went up stairs to the East Wing of the house. Kate watched him go, a strange tug pulling at her chest at his departure.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not doing anything right now, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Gregory’s question startled Kate, she forgetting she wasn’t alone.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no I’m not,” Kate confessed. “My little student has ran off to be with his uncle so I have free time. What’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>Gregory’s eyes lit up with mischief. “I need help with a project…”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>A knock reverberated on his door.</p><p> </p><p>Colin choose to ignore this. Instead he slumped further into his bed, covers thrown over his head.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I know you are awake</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I am not!” Colin yelled back.</p><p> </p><p>“Colin!” she called out again, her knocks coming in full force once more. “Open the door!”</p><p> </p><p>“Leave me alone!” He grabbed the nearest pillow and slammed it over his head.</p><p> </p><p>“If you do not open this door in the next ten seconds, then I am going to go find Anthony, get the master keys from him, and open it myself.” She paused, a distinct foot tapping impatiently on the other side of the door. “And I think we are all aware you and Anthony are not getting along right now. For whatever reason that is.”</p><p> </p><p>Huffing, Colin dragged himself out of bed and to the bedroom door. He flung it open, catching the door before it slammed against the wall. “What do you want, Daphne?”</p><p> </p><p>His younger sister (by less than a year, as she always liked to remind him) stood on the other side of the door, head held high and eyes set in a determined manner that only meant trouble.</p><p> </p><p>God, he did not need Daphne’s brand of trouble at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>“We need to talk about what happened last night.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t need another sibling trying to talk to him about ‘what happened’—Anthony had already ordered him to avoid Eloise as well as keep out of sight from the rest of the family as Hyacinth and Gregory had <em>opinions</em> about what had transpired. The only time he left his room was to grab food and greet the Stirling cousins. “I don’t want to—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m the reason Penelope got upset,” Daphne blurted out.</p><p> </p><p>Colin’s hand slacked on the door. “<em>What</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>His sister’s blue eyes softened. “We were having a silly talk about baby names and then Eloise provoked the situation—”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course she did,” he muttered. When did Eloise <em>not</em> provoke a situation?</p><p> </p><p>“And I may have…” Daphne winced, a hand coming up to play with a stray lock of light brown hair. “I may have implied I knew about you….and her….and your arrangement?”</p><p> </p><p>Colin’s face fell. “Daphne—”</p><p> </p><p>“It was an accident. And it wasn’t anything too bad,” Daphne immediately began to defend, her neck tensing as the words flew out of her mouth. “It was just revealed she didn’t like alphabetical names and I asked how you and her were ever going to name your children—”</p><p> </p><p>He felt like he’d been submerged in ice cold waters. Then dunked in scorching flames. “Why on earth would you say something like that?” he hissed, his annoyance for Daphne spiking up another tick. “Penelope and I aren’t—”</p><p> </p><p>“I realize that <em>now</em>,” she stressed, fanning her face with her hand. “May I please sit down?”</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, Colin opened the door wider, letting her come in.</p><p> </p><p>She deftly avoid his rumpled bed and took a seat by the bay window, looking properly out of place in his horrid mess of room. Everything about Daphne as put together, from her neatly tied hair to her unwrinkled deep blue linen dress. She was arguably the most put together of their siblings.</p><p> </p><p>So it’d been strange these last couple of weeks to see her become more and more frazzled. A subtle crack in her picture perfect being.</p><p> </p><p>Colin noticed because as much as he didn’t care for her well-meaning meddling, she was his closest sister. His mother had on multiple occasions called them twins in public, even dressing them in matching color outfits as toddlers. He liked to believe he was closer to her, even though he knew this may not be reciprocated.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t mean to say anything,” she said, examining her nails. “It just slipped out and…and I feel guilty. I didn’t know, or understand, how fragile things were between you and Pen.”</p><p> </p><p>“I…” Colin clucked his tongue, uncomfortable with his sister’s distraught. “You perhaps shouldn’t have said anything, but it wasn’t you who broke Pen.” He assured her, hating the weight of shame pulling down on him. “It was me. Who broke her. And it was a long time coming.”</p><p> </p><p>A pinch between her brows, Daphne scooted over on the bay window and patted the space beside her on the bench. “Talk to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Head hung low, he joined her on the bench. “I like Pen. I like her a lot. I’ve always have,” he edged the words out, the first time confessing them so simply. Not in the roundabout way he had done with Benedict. “But…but I felt like—and feel like—I cannot have a real relationship with her because of my traveling. My work is my first love. It’s my passion…and I cannot give it up for a woman. Even if that woman is Penelope. I cannot ask her to be with me, when I’d only see her a handful of times year. Nor can I ask her to sacrifice her life here to be with me, to travel with me. It wouldn’t be fair.”</p><p> </p><p>A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, giving a light squeeze. “So you decided to be something more, but no strings attached? To give you a taste of both worlds?” she asked, catching on to his meaning.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah…I thought…I thought I could at least have this and it’ll be okay.”</p><p> </p><p>It was the farthest thing from okay.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne’s shoulder bumped into his. “Col, can I let you in on a secret?”</p><p> </p><p>He hummed, staring down at the hardwood floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever you were trying to do with Penelope was never going to work. Because you have feelings for her, always have, and she…well, she has feelings for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doubt it now.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, she does,” Daphne insisted, “A woman does not leave the way she did if she did not love you.” At his confused frown, she huffed through a chuckle. “I know that does not seem to make sense, but it does. Sometimes being around someone who you love, and you don’t know if they feel the same anymore or at all, we believe the pain is more manageable with distance. But it’s not.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin knew it wasn’t his place to ask, but Daphne spoke with far too much wisdom for him to not believe otherwise. “Is…is that how you felt when you and Simon separated?”</p><p> </p><p>His sister did not lash at the question, but slumped a fraction into herself. “Yeah. Yeah, a bit.”</p><p> </p><p>Amongst the family it as no secret Daphne and Simon’s relationship had been far from the perfect union the world seemed to believe. While their relationship had been sweet in the eyes of the public and their wedding the talk of the year, from Daphne’s gown to the beauty of the ceremony and reception, behind closed doors their marriage had problems from the get-go.</p><p> </p><p>As in, Daphne and Simon came back from their honeymoon with plans for separation.</p><p> </p><p>No one knew what happened. Not even Anthony who arguably knew all the Bridgerton secrets. They left adoring each other and came back on separate flights.</p><p> </p><p>This lasted for three weeks, then all seemed to work itself out. At least, that’s what it the situation appeared to be from Colin’s seat of events.</p><p> </p><p>“You see…” She began, considering her next words carefully. “The separation with Simon…” The humiliated downturn of her lips told Colin this was a far more delicate matter than he knew. “I was the one at fault. What I did… I betrayed the trust we built. And when that happens you have to do everything in your power to right the wrong you committed.”</p><p> </p><p>“What if Pen is not as forgiving as Simon?”</p><p> </p><p>“Simon didn’t immediately forgive me,” Daphne corrected, sitting tall once more, becoming the regal, well-mannered sister Colin knew her to be, instead of a woman retelling the fragile past of her marriage. “When we got back together it wasn’t as if all was forgiven. It took time to build trust again. It took time to get back to the place we were before…before I did what I did, but we worked on our relationship and our marriage because we love each other. And we choose to love each other every day.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin blinked down at her, struggling to understand how this applied to him and Penelope. Or better yet, he understood, and he didn’t want to acknowledge it for himself. “So what are you trying to say?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m saying,” Daphne peered up at him with the familiar exasperated fierceness of their youth—the same kind of when she’d shove him on the playground for taking too long on the swings or catching him eating all the biscuits in the kitchen in the middle of the night, “you need to own up to your mistakes. Admit your flaws and acknowledge what you did wrong if you ever want to repair what you have with Penelope.”</p><p> </p><p>Hearing her spell it out for him gutted Colin.</p><p> </p><p>Because he had to admit he was the one at fault. Everything was his fault. From crossing the line between friends to more than friends. To continuing their rendezvous week after week, month after month. He tried to tell himself over and over nothing would become of these fleeting moments with Penelope…but he was only lying to himself and by default Pen.</p><p> </p><p>He was the one who made a sham out of their friendship because he never had the nerve to acknowledge what they truly were—lovers, of the most intimate and honest sense.</p><p> </p><p>“But...”</p><p> </p><p>“No ‘but’s.” Daphne stood to her feet, staring down at him like he was a misbehaving child. “You cannot mope around in your room expecting things will get better on their own because that’s how life has always treated you. Nothing will get better unless you <em>do</em> something.”</p><p> </p><p>She was right—Daphne, when it came to matters of the heart and friendship, was rarely wrong. He had to do something. He had to apologize, or at least attempt to explain himself to Pen. Make her understand why he acted the way he did, why he never tempted to be anything more than their arrangement despite the clear change in their relationship. He never wanted to be with anyone else, but her.</p><p> </p><p>He had to talk to her—truly talk to her in the way Benedict urged him, but Colin so blatantly ignored in fear of wounding his own heart. “But what if she doesn’t forgive me? What if she rejects me—or—or wants nothing to do with me?”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne’s eyes softened. “Then at least you tried. Trying is better than doing nothing at all. Trying means you care. Do you care about her Colin?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yes</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you know what you need to do.” Daphne swept out of the room as easily as she entered, stopping by the doorway before her departure. “My sisterly duties have been fulfilled today,” she teased with a overly polite nod. “Put that big heart you have to use, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Colin nodded, the hype of encouragement spring him into action.</p><p> </p><p>He needed to move before his doubts overwhelmed him. He couldn’t let Pen wait on him any longer!</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A printed list of names was dropped on his desk.</p><p> </p><p>“What is this?” Anthony asked, picking up the paper.</p><p> </p><p>His mother gave him a blithe smile. “A guest list.”</p><p> </p><p>He tutted, eyes scanning the names listed. A disgruntled frowned formed at the mention of the Cowpers and Featheringtons. “Whatever for? Planning an end of the summer party?”</p><p> </p><p>“Something like that,” Violet said, taking a seat in the chair across from him. With one glance at her, Anthony knew his mother hadn’t been sleeping well. When she didn’t sleep well, she made herself busy, as though to justify her fatigue. “I am putting together an afternoon garden party for the seventeenth.”</p><p> </p><p>All thoughts, concerns, and pleasant questions ceased, Anthony struck still.</p><p> </p><p>“Seventeenth?” Surely he must have heard her wrong. Violet wouldn’t plan a party the upcoming weekend, not with such short notice and…and well, the <em>obvious</em>. “Don’t you mean the twenty-fourth? Or maybe the thirty-first?”</p><p> </p><p>Mother shook her head. “No. The seventeenth.”</p><p> </p><p>He pursed his lips, jaw clenching. “We can’t have it on the seventeenth. It’s…it’s the day after Father’s passing—”</p><p> </p><p>“All the more reason to do it,” his mother insisted.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Anthony said plainly. “We are not going to have a party the day after Father’s passing. That’s…that’s <em>terrible</em>.” He did not know how else to form his words without insulting his mother. As much as he and Mother struggled to see eye to eye, he respected her. Respected her as much as he could. “We are going to do what we have always done; spend the few days together, as a family and mourn him. You know it’s a difficult time for us. How difficult it is for <em>you</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet hummed, her own jaw tensing in similar manner to him. “I know how we have always done our mourning, Anthony. I have been here every year, same as you. But…but I don’t believe your father would have wanted this for us. He was a joyous man. The life of the party and always in the mood to liven spirits. He didn’t dwell on troubling matters nor did he allow himself to be so caught up in despair. He’d want us to remember his life positively; to celebrate him.”</p><p> </p><p>“And your solution is a party?” Anthony asked, trying to understand her logic. For so many years Violet would put on a brave face for the sixteenth—the day of Edmund’s passing—only to lock herself away the following day. On the seventeenth. If this was Violet attempting to make a point to him, or her children, or even society, then he found it to be troubling for the mere fact this was not like her. “A party the day after the anniversary of your husband’s death?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she told him, stern. “Because we need to stop living in past. We need to make new memories—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m positive we have been doing so,” Anthony interjected, “were you not there for Field Day? Or all the family dinners we’ve been having <em>every single night</em> at your begrudging?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have.” His mother appeared unthreatened by his remark, only exasperated. With him. Nothing new. “And I appreciate the efforts everyone has been making. Even our guests.” She sighed, leaning back into her chair. “Kate has been phenomenal. Far too kind. Far too considerate. She fits well with us.”</p><p> </p><p>“That she does,” Anthony said evenly.</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone has taken a liking to her,” his mother continued, examining her manicure with vague interest. “Hyacinth and Gregory adore her. I’ve always believed they were the ones you’d have to worry about when you began to consider a serious relationship.”</p><p> </p><p>Her obvious implications caused Anthony’s entire being to tense, from head to toe. With haste he picked up the guest list once more. “Weren’t we discussing your ill-advised party?”</p><p> </p><p>“Can we not speak as mother and son for one afternoon?” she asked, hands clasped firmly together. “Or is asking for the minimum too much for you?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony set down the guest list, picking up his pen in its stead. “You can have your party on the twenty-fourth. Only the twenty-fourth and it can be in honor of Father if you so wish.” He turned back to his open laptop. “Anything else you’d like to discuss?”</p><p> </p><p>“You.” Violet shrugged a shoulder. “Anything about you. Or your siblings. I won’t talk. I’ll just sit and listen.”</p><p> </p><p>She was trying to connect with him. Trying, so hard. More than she had in the past.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony knew he couldn’t shut his mother out forever, especially when she as going to these lengths.</p><p> </p><p>A niggling voice told him he needed to try as well—attempt to connect with his mother, considering she was indeed the only parent he had left. How he should spend his time with her wisely rather than pushing her away at every opportunity.</p><p> </p><p>(He hated how the niggling voice sounded an awful lot like a certain watercolorist and beast-owner whom consumed all his free time.)</p><p> </p><p>Closing his laptop, Anthony leaned back in his chair, eyeing the portrait of his father above the fireplace.</p><p> </p><p>Father would <em>hate</em>—distraught, disappointed, troubled beyond repair—their strained relationship. Edmund Bridgerton would meddle, fix the situation by abusing any outlet at his disposal. He’d prevent a strain from occurring in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony had to do his father right. After all, this why there were at Aubrey Hall, was it not?</p><p> </p><p>“Franny wants to intern for me. She’s interested in running part of the company one day.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet perked at this. “Francesca? I thought she was pursuing music?”</p><p> </p><p>“I did too,” Anthony found himself chuckling, hands clasping together on his lap, “but she ambushed me. Told me she’s studying journalism. Wants to be in-charge one day.” He rolled his eyes a bit, recalling her abruptness. He had been mildly offended in the moment, yet as he mulled over the idea throughout the day, he found himself rather pleased. “It’s…it’s nice knowing at least one of my siblings is intrigued by the business.”</p><p> </p><p>His mother tutted, musing over the thought. “If she does intern for you, you can actually  <em>mentor</em> Francesca. Teach her the ropes. Really challenge her. Give her what your father always wanted to give you.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what I was thinking,” Anthony muttered. Strange how he and his mother could be on the same wave-length as each other, even when it felt like they were constantly on opposite planets. “If she really wants to do this one day, then I want to provide her with all the tools necessary.”</p><p> </p><p>“And if you think about it…let’s say she <em>does</em> take over a portion of the business, and you start decreasing your duties at Bridgerton Media Publications, you can have an early retirement in fifteen years’ time. Leave the company all together.”</p><p> </p><p>His blood ran cold at the word ‘retirement.’ “Why would I retire?” he asked, a bit brisk.</p><p> </p><p>“Because you’ve been working for the company for years, started your career earlier than you ever intended,” Violet reasoned, not seeing the problem with her suggestion. “And…and I know you don’t like talking about this, but if you do plan to get married or start a family in future, I figured you’d want to take gradual steps away from the company. You have the room to.”</p><p> </p><p>His mother made it sound like he had this vast future.</p><p> </p><p>As if there was a true future to consider. One where he ‘settled down’—married, with children, with a life beyond what he was currently living to think about.</p><p> </p><p>Sure, he had his momentary daydream.</p><p> </p><p>But it was just that—a daydream.</p><p> </p><p>All the Bridgerton men met their demise before the age of forty. A terrible, unreasonable fact in their family’s history.</p><p> </p><p>Yet his mother did not seem to think (or rather be aware) this applied to him.</p><p> </p><p>(Not that she knew of his appointment on Wednesday with a neurologist. Not that she knew he could very well find out news with a weeks' time that would put a finite timeline of his life on this Earth.)</p><p> </p><p>“Your father and I…” She paused, a wistful smile sent the portrait’s way, “…we were discussing the possibility of him stepping down as chairman. Before his passing. He felt he was missing too much. You were off at university, living your life. The other children were <em>so</em> young and all clustered together in age—he felt like he wasn’t doing enough.”</p><p> </p><p>“He did plenty,” Anthony defended. His father was the <em>best</em>, as obtuse as it sounded to declare him as so. Edmund never missed a football game, he never missed a school performance, he never missed a birthday. He was there, all the time for his children. Anthony could only recall a handful of times his father was not present for a family occasion. Edmund Bridgerton carved personal time with each and every one of his children; he knew their interests, their passions, their fears, and all else in-between.</p><p> </p><p>When he passed, Anthony knew he’d never compare.</p><p> </p><p>He’d never be able to fill the hole his father left—in the company, in their family. But he had to try his best, and even then it never felt like enough.</p><p> </p><p>“He did do plenty,” Violet agreed, eyes falling from the portrait to the rest of the room. From the embedded bookcases, to the old furniture lain out in the same manner it had always been since Edmund used the space. “But he also never slept. Every minute of his schedule was accounted for, from the timing of his showers to how long it would take him to walk from point A to point B.” She shook her head, the memories living vividly in her mind. “He spread himself too thin. I worried for him all the time.”</p><p> </p><p>Her warm eyes then landed on him, genuine. Reminding him of the times before. Of his childhood, when he could turn to his mother and expect open arms and comfort, rather than a scolding or disappointment.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want the same to happen to you,” she told him simply. “You…you remind me so much of him. Your work ethic, your heart.” She cleared her throat, overwhelmed by the rush of emotion, the rush of tears. “I think…I think that’s what made it difficult for us all these years. But you don’t need to try to be him anymore. You can just be you, and you are more than enough, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>The wind was knocked out of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” he mumbled, his voice thick. Pursing his lips, he dropped his gaze away from his mother. He looked to the portrait only for the sting behind his eyes to increase. Hastily he stared down at the run beneath his feet.</p><p> </p><p>His mother…his mother had never said that.</p><p> </p><p>His mother had never told him he was enough and now…</p><p> </p><p>And now he felt this stark, jagged need to <em>cry</em>.</p><p> </p><p>But for what? He did not want to think on this matter long.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you like some tea?” his mother asked, perhaps sensing his restraint and need for privacy.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, please,” Anthony answered, despising how young he sounded to his own ears. He swallowed. “And…and maybe I’ll rethink the seventeenth. Just give me….just give me time. The evening to think.”</p><p> </p><p>Mother nodded, a small quirk to her lips as she took her leave.</p><p> </p><p>Once the study door shut, he could not stop his tears from falling.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Here I was thinking you needed my opinion or my expertise on a project,” Kate muttered behind the steering wheel. “But you just needed someone to drive you around. Just so you know, I am not the best driver. This right here,” she motioned to herself in the driver’s seat, “is an uncommon occurrence.”</p><p> </p><p>From the passenger seat, Gregory tapped away on his phone, double checking the GPS directions. “You are perfect for this Kate. Seeing as I have yet to acquire my license—”</p><p> </p><p>“Which is stupid really,” Hyacinth chimed in from the backseat.</p><p> </p><p>“And Hyacinth had failed her test more than once and has yet to acquire hers as well,” Gregory continued. “You were the obvious choice since none of our siblings can know what we are doing.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate frowned, side glancing at the two. “This is legal right? Whatever this is you two have roped me into?”</p><p> </p><p>“So legal.” Hyacinth leaned on her side in the back, the seatbelt twisting to her slump. “We just need to stop into this shop and pick up our order.”</p><p> </p><p>“An order?” Kate eyebrows jumped. “I thought it was Daphne and Simon’s turn for dinner—”</p><p> </p><p>“It is,” Gregory said, eyes still glued to his phone. “This is a gift order, not a food order.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s someone’s birthday?” Kate’s eyes darted up to rearview mirror, directing the question to Hyacinth. The girl frowned at her. “Why didn’t anyone tell me—”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think she knows, Gregory,” Hyacinth cut in, her usually exuberant disposition deflating. Leaning into the space between the driver and passenger seat, Hyacinth eyed her sharply. “Has no one told you what this upcoming weekend is? Or why we even get together in July in the first place?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate had her theories. She’d heard enough conversation to know Edmund Bridgerton passed in July, to know the family spent part of the month mourning their loss. She simply did not know when this particular date was, nor how the family planned to observe the day. And she felt it too intrusive to ask; she was a guest, and she needed to respect the family’s boundaries despite them claiming her as one of their own in a couple of short weeks.</p><p> </p><p>“The sixteenth is the anniversary of our father’s death,” Gregory explained quietly, setting his phone down in the cupholder in the center console. “We still have a few days to go until we make the trip to the cemetery and basically sit all day reminiscing about him.”</p><p> </p><p>“I understand.”</p><p> </p><p>She did. Her family had their own traditions in regard to her father’s passing, same as her mother’s. However Mary was oddly funny about it, visiting both their grave sites regularly, and speaking to their headstones as though she were catching Miles and Charlotte up on their favorite television show.</p><p> </p><p>Sparing a brief glance to the two, she then understood a greater gravity of this loss.</p><p> </p><p>Neither Gregory or Hyacinth knew their father. Gregory too young to recall memories, and Hyacinth not yet born.</p><p> </p><p>Kate recognized the oddness of mourning a parent one never knew. “You two must feel a bit left out, then? Your siblings having these memories and you…well, you don’t know matter how desperately you want them too.”</p><p> </p><p>Both nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s why we get mother a present every year,” Gregory said. “Something about Father. To remember him.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s very sweet of you two,” she praised. “What is the gift this time, if I may ask?”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth nearly jumped through the middle, giddy at the question. “We found these old letters they exchanged when Mama studied abroad and they were still in the early stages of dating. So we decided to get copies of the letters and have them bind together like a little book of memories!” She beamed, thoroughly pleased with herself. “I would just like to let it be known, it was my idea and I am the genius behind this brilliant gift.”</p><p> </p><p>Gregory rolled his eyes and shoved Hyacinth away. “They did that a lot, I guess? Exchanging letters. We are planning on putting together another set for Christmas for her. Depending on how much she likes this one.”</p><p> </p><p>The GPS beeped, Gregory snatching the phone back up. “You’ll need to take a left up here.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate followed his directions. “Well, I am honored to be part of this adventure. I’m sure you mother will love it.” Violet seemed like the sentimental sort, a thoughtful gift would warm the woman.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m surprised Anthony didn’t tell you about the sixteenth,” Hyacinth remarked, earning an annoyed glare from Gregory. “I thought he tells you everything these days.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose he does,” Kate mused, eyes trained on the road. The countryside was rapidly shifting into the nearby town, little shops and buildings popping up as she came towards the downtown area. “But I am not offended if that’s what you are getting at.” Hyacinth huffed from behind her, this obviously what she was getting at. “We’ve only known each other a couple of weeks. Not everything gets shared, no matter how close two people can be.”</p><p> </p><p>She and Anthony had shared quite a bit of themselves with each other in a short time—that much was true. More than she’d ever shared with anyone in her entire life. However, the girl’s comment made Kate wonder, <em>slightly</em>, why he hadn’t brought up the significance of the sixteenth, if not to simply share the burden he carried. Anthony did carry too much on his shoulders, Kate a willing ear to listen.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth’s head once again popped in-between the front seats, her long chestnut curls nearly smacking both Gregory and Kate in the face.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you know you can fall in love with someone in less than a week?” The girl declared, hands braced on the back of Kate’s seat. “Theoretically speaking, with the amount of time you and Anthony have spent together, you two can be in love and not even realize it!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate near swerved.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully no other cars were on the road.</p><p> </p><p>She planted her hands firmly on the wheel, pointedly ignoring the youngest Bridgerton’s comment and kept her focus on the road.</p><p> </p><p>Not the phrase ‘you two can be in love and not even realize it.’ Because that was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.</p><p> </p><p>“Hyacinth,” Gregory hissed, shoving her back to her seat once more. “Shut up!” He sat back right in his seat, sending frantic glances to Kate. “She’s joking. Hyacinth is just evil and likes to provoke.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hey</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“You are!” he shot back. “Whatever is going on between you and Anthony is between you and Anthony,” he rambled to Kate, apologetic. “We’ve just all noticed you two are close, and Hyacinth has an over active imagination. That’s all.”</p><p> </p><p>Swallowing tightly, Kate nodded once. “I see.”</p><p> </p><p>“And we like you,” Gregory continued, as though his mouth could not stop yapping to save the situation. In fact, he might have been making it worse. “We like you so much, we want you to be with Anthony because then we get to keep you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly,” Hyacinth chimed in only to be shushed by her brother.</p><p> </p><p>“But if you don’t like Anthony, then we understand. He can be…” Gregory opened and closed his mouth. “Grumpy. And neurotic. And a workaholic. And he has this insane fear of bees—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not insane,” Kate scolded lightly. “No fear is insane,” she told them pointedly.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth and Gregory shared a glance. Kate chose not to read into it. Glances between siblings only meant trouble.</p><p> </p><p>“Nevertheless, Anthony has his flaws. So not being enamored with him is understandable.”</p><p> </p><p>“But most of us don’t believe it,” Hyacinth muttered under her breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you be <em>quiet</em>?” Gregory hissed, tossing a crumpled receipt at Hyacinth’s head.</p><p> </p><p>As she did with most of the bombastic teenagers she interacted with, Kate did not warrant their remarks with a response. Instead she pulled up to the nearest curb and nodded to the shop before them. “Isn’t this our stop?”</p><p> </p><p>Gregory all but scrambled out of the car. “Yes, it is! Come on Hyacinth!”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth made no effort to unbuckle herself. “I’d rather stay here and—”</p><p> </p><p>“I said ‘<em>come on</em>’!”</p><p> </p><p>With a huff, the girl followed her brother, though not without giving Kate a mischievous smirk in departure.</p><p> </p><p>Those two were going to be the death of her, Kate was certain. With their nosey questions and sly remarks…she knew they were, especially Hyacinth, trying to provoke her. Get a rise. See if she’d make her own snappish yet revealing comment.</p><p> </p><p>But Kate believed herself wiser. Smarter. Not prone to entertaining the two teenagers’ teasing.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t love Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t. She cared for him—a very distinct difference. There was also the fact she didn’t mine spending all her free time, nor her bed, with him. But that was because…because there was a deep connection between them. She wasn’t naive enough to claim there wasn’t; she wouldn’t have gravitated to his side if there wasn’t, she wouldn’t have kissed him if there wasn’t, and she wouldn’t have opened her heart to him if there wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, they’d grown unbelievably close in such a short amount of time. There was no denying this. But she’d only been at Aubrey Hall for <em>what</em>? Thirteen days?</p><p> </p><p>Yet it felt like an eternity.</p><p> </p><p>Her mind continued to drift to what Hyacinth said.</p><p> </p><p>Could someone fall in love in a mere week’s, maybe two weeks,’ time?</p><p> </p><p>The situation seemed improbable. But…</p><p> </p><p>How else could she explain the lightness in her chest at the thought of him. Or how his smile, his smirking annoying yet oh so gentle smile brought upset delight in her. How she could say everything she felt and thought in one glance and he knew—understood her—in heartbeat.</p><p> </p><p>Deep in her heart she knew she wanted him as her own, forever and a day. For as long as she could, not just for a summer.</p><p> </p><p>A strange revelation to have outside a print shop in what felt like the middle of nowhere, indeed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Anthony came to join his family for dinner he faltered when he reached his spot.</p><p> </p><p>“Is something wrong? Eloise asked, opening up a cloth napkin and placing it on Amanda’s lap. The girl kicked off the napkin before it could lay flat. Eloise’s nose wrinkled at the action, yet she kept her attention on him. “You look like you swallowed a fly. A rather sour fly.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s eyes darted to the seat beside his—Kate’s seat—to find Amanda blinking up at him with the biggest eyes and adoring smile.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda was in Kate’s seat.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes scanned the rest of the dinner table finding the seating arrangements had shifted. Dramatically.</p><p> </p><p>As usual Daphne was on his mother’s right, followed by Simon and Hyacinth, but that’s when the shift began—Phillip and Oliver continued the line up to Eloise then Amanda on her right. Where Kate would usually sit.</p><p> </p><p>On the opposite side, Benedict’s seat and the one beside it were empty, still await him and his guest’s arrival. Gregory and Francesca followed, seemingly switching seats so she could be beside John. Michael sat on his cousin’s left, which then left open seat next to him for—</p><p> </p><p>Anthony blinked, scanning the table once more. He counted once, then twice. “We don’t have enough seats.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes we do,” Daphne chimed in, standing up from her chair to head for the kitchen, “Colin left.”</p><p> </p><p>His attention snapped to Daphne, dumbfounded. “Colin left? For <em>where</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>She shrugged, a far too knowing glint in her eye. “Don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne absolutely knew where their brother disappeared off to; she just wasn’t going to say.</p><p> </p><p>“Care to help me bring some of the food, brother dear?” She nodded to the kitchen, walking ahead before he could answer.</p><p> </p><p>A refusal was on his lips, yet he came to a quick conclusion as to what his sister was doing. Sighing, Anthony followed after Daphne into the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>She whirled on him the instant the kitchen door swung shut. “Colin’s off to find Penelope!” she whispered in frantic glee. “To apologize! To fix things!”</p><p> </p><p>“And you know this how?” he asked, his eyes narrowing apprehensively. Surely Colin wouldn’t confide in <em>Daphne</em> of all people. In his mind they were like cats and dogs…or maybe more like frogs and rabbits—nothing to do with each other besides living in the same wilderness.</p><p> </p><p>“He needed some older sisterly wisdom and I bestowed it upon him,” came her smug response. “That is how I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“You do realize he <em>is</em> older than you no matter how compelling the baby-face is, right?” Anthony asked, staring down at her with more and more growing concern. Daphne really was becoming their mother the older she got.</p><p> </p><p>“Age is but a number and wisdom does not discriminate against the young,” Daphne tried to prattle off wisely, however it came off more haughty than she probably intended. “The main point is I helped Colin realize he needs to chase after Pen! This is good! This is really good!” She sighed, hands clasped to her chest. “Oh, I always rooted for them, you know? Good on Colin.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think we have all rooted for them,” Anthony replied, hoping he didn’t sound too testy at the news. Knowing Colin, he was either going to make a fool of himself or…Now that he thought it over, Anthony knew there was no other ‘or’—his brother was going to make a fool of himself and it would either win Penelope’s heart or make matters worse. Really, a coin toss. “But I wouldn’t get ahead of ourselves…”</p><p> </p><p>“I am not mentally planning their wedding!” Daphne cried out.</p><p> </p><p>“I never said you were,” Anthony shot back, a stunned chuckle laced through, “but <em>clearly</em> that was something you needed to get off your chest.”</p><p> </p><p>His sister was none too pleased with his response, bustling over to the kitchen island. She handed off a platter of a cut rosemary bread. “You are no fun. Go set that on the table.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony went to follow his sister’s orders when the backdoor opened.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah,” Benedict hummed, eyes sliding from Daphne to Anthony, “didn’t expect to see you two in here. Thought everyone would be sitting down by now.” He edged further into the house, his usual confidence lodging back into place with each step. He nodded behind him, Ethan following half a step behind. “We’ll just—” He pointed to the kitchen door, no doubt hoping he and his guest could slip through unnoticed.</p><p> </p><p>A futile hope considering Daphne Bridgerton-Basset was in the room.</p><p> </p><p>Her hurried feet tapped along the tile, she nearly tossing herself in front of the door before either man could leave her presence. “Benedict, aren’t you going to introduce Anthony and I to your guest?”</p><p> </p><p>The slow and calculated bat of her eyelashes told the men she wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer.</p><p> </p><p>Inhaling deeply, Benedict began to lift his hand to rest on Ethan’s shoulders. Only to drop it a second later. “I’ll make introductions at dinner.” He shrugged, his poor nonchalance transparent. “Besides, Anthony has already met Ethan.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne’s eyes went ablaze with newfound determination. “You and Anthony have met?” she directed towards Ethan.</p><p> </p><p>“A bit informally—” Anthony smothered down a snort at Ethan’s phrasing of the encounter, “—but yes.” Taking pity on the girl, he bypassed the still-as-a-statue Benedict and held his hand out to Daphne. “I’m Ethan Beckett, it is a pleasure to finally meet you Daphne. Benedict speaks highly of you, says you are the reason this family dresses so impeccably.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne flushed at the compliment. “Why thank you,” she smile sweetly, taking his hand. “If only <em>all</em> my brother’s let me have input on their wardrobe.” The scathing remark was meant for Anthony, who was indeed wearing the same brown-russet sweater from the day before. Not that he hadn’t showered or changed, he did, but he simply liked the sweater best.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d let you raid my closet any day of the week,” said Ethan, earning a faint giggle from Daphne.</p><p> </p><p>“I will hold you to it,” she warned.</p><p> </p><p>“She will,” Benedict added. “Now that introductions have been made—”</p><p> </p><p>“What is your connection to my dear brother?” Daphne barreled on, her curiosity piqued. “Are you two friends?” When neither answered, her eyes lit up. “Or are you—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hungry</em>?” Benedict cut in, marching over to the kitchen island. He picked up a tray. “Absolutely famished!” He handed the tray off to Ethan and grabbed another. “We’ll help you set out the food! Come along, Ethan.” He sped out of the kitchen, leaving the rest of the occupants staring after him.</p><p> </p><p>Ethan cleared his throat, a tinge of red specking across his face. He followed after Benedict, nodding at both Anthony and Daphne as he left.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne’s jaw dropped. “Are they—” She turned to Anthony, eyes wide and hands flying to her face. “Oh no. I made things awkward didn’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>“A bit, yeah,” Anthony deadpanned. He passed her on his way to the door. “Don’t try and fix anything. Just let it be,” he ordered. “Let. It. Be. Give them space to breathe.”</p><p> </p><p>“But—” She snapped her mouth shut at his stern stare. “Fine,” Daphne waved him off, “fine. I’ll be cool. I’ll act like I did not <em>almost</em> out my brother in the kitchen—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sighed. “Daff—”</p><p> </p><p>The kitchen door swung open, Kate beelining into the room towards Anthony, her curls bouncing in time with her steps.  “Did you see <em>them</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate knows?” Daphne whispered. A beat passed, as though connecting nonexistent dots. “Of course she does. What secret does Kate <em>not</em> know in this house?” she muttered, grabbing a stack of cloth napkins and extra utensils.</p><p> </p><p>Kate winced, apologetic. “Please know it is nothing on my part. Your family just has a habit of spilling their guts to me, present company included.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony and Daphne both scowled at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you just come in here to gossip, or are you going to help?” Anthony asked.</p><p> </p><p>To prove him otherwise, Kate picked up one of the pitchers of water from the counter. “To help. And maybe gossip. I can do both at the same time.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne pulled her back into their little circle. “Tell me everything you know.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate looked like she wanted to flee. “I don’t think I should—”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell us,” Daphne insisted, “not that I don’t believe mother would welcome Ethan with open arms, but we need to be in Benedict’s corner no matter what, so spill Chamber of Secrets!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate turned to him imploringly, expecting him to ward off his sister.</p><p> </p><p>“Unfortunately, I agree with Daphne,” Anthony confessed, shifting the bread tray to his other arm.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s been seeing Ethan for a while. A long while, wouldn’t give me an exact date,” Kate blurted out, trapped between two Bridgertons with no escape in sight. “They met at a party. A costume party…erm….” She blinked, trying to remember other details, though it must have difficult with the pressure she was under. “Ethan works as an accountant for an art gallery? Used to work in catering while in school.” Nodding to herself, she added-- "And he has one step-sister he keeps in contact with, Posy."</p><p> </p><p>“That’s all you have?” Daphne droned.</p><p> </p><p>“When he as lamenting to me about Ethan, Benedict was more so speaking of his love for him rather than the intimate details of their courtship.” Kate spared a glance to Anthony, raising an eyebrow. “That’s all I got and can remember right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s sufficient,” Anthony assured her. “I’m glad he was able to talk to someone about him. Even if that someone wasn’t me.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne huffed, shaking her head at the two. “We need to go out there. Be a united front.” Hold her head up high, she led the way back into the dinning room. “Come on you two, can’t have you making eyes at each other all night. People have to eat.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate hurried after her before Anthony could even make a dry quip about his sister’s remark to her. He followed after the two, joining the rest of the family in the dining room.</p><p> </p><p>He could only hope the dinner went smoothly, or as smoothly as it could go with his family. They deserved to have at least one dinner without someone on the verge of meltdown.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Violet <em>knew</em> the moment the young man sat down at the table.</p><p> </p><p>He carried himself lightly and spoke with a politeness that was too kind, too sweet, and trying too hard.</p><p> </p><p>Ethan Beckett was hoping to make a good impression.</p><p> </p><p>He laughed at the right jokes, a quiet laughter of someone who maybe didn’t always feel comfortable to laugh in the first place, but an authentic and true laughter all the same. He listened to each member of the family with rapt interest, an earnest ear yearning to listen.</p><p> </p><p>The man was well liked within seconds, adore within minutes, and would easily be made an honorary member of the family by the end of the night.</p><p> </p><p>What bothered Violet however, was how Benedict introduced his guest.</p><p> </p><p>He called Ethan his <em>friend</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A light had been snuffed from Ethan’s eyes at the term, yet no one noticed because the man hid it well. Effortlessly hidden pain was the skill of wallflower. And Ethan Beckett was indeed a wallflower, one who’d caught the attention of a man who commanded a room if he so pleased.</p><p> </p><p>But Violet knew.</p><p> </p><p>She knew this sweet, kind young man who complimented her son <em>so well </em>was not a mere friend.</p><p> </p><p>Ethan was more. Yet Benedict did not expand on the thought.</p><p> </p><p>And yet Ethan continued to sit by his side.</p><p> </p><p>Her hand latched to Benedict's and squeezed lightly; a simple signal for a word. He turned to her, not engaged in any conversation with his nearby siblings, and leaned an ear towards her.</p><p> </p><p>“I like him,” she said to her son, hoping he understood her tone. “I like him a lot. He suits you.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict pulled back, visibly shaken.</p><p> </p><p>Violet’s gut swooped, the feeling of falling consuming her.</p><p> </p><p>He slipped his hand out of hers, reaching for his water. Sipping tentatively, he shifted ever so slightly away from her.</p><p> </p><p>No one else noticed.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So many conversations, and of course a least one Bridgerton is missing from the action! </p><p>AND WE WILL PICK UP WHERE WE LEFT OFF. I AM NOT GOING TO LEAVE IT LIKE THAT, BUT I GOTTA LEAVE IT LIKE THAT FOR TENSION, CHAPTER THEME, AND WORD COUNT PURPOSES.</p><p>Some Notes~</p><p>1. Michael Stirling is in the house and he is gonna rob all our hearts....but most importantly he'll actually be one of the main players IF I decide to do a sequel, which is in the outline phase....that is if y'all are interested in a continuation of this universe 👀 Let me know in the comments!</p><p>1.5. BECAUSE I REALIZE I WILL BE ASKED THIS-- The current actor I am envisioning for Michael is Charlie Rowe. TRUST ME WHEN YOU SEE HIM WITH SCRUFF HE LOOKS LIKE MICHAEL. Or at least how I envision a slightly younger Michael who is charming and quietly pinning over Francesca.</p><p>2. Daphne and Colin--I always had it in my mind that they'd be lumped together as children *shrugs* and I feel like Daphne would meddle just a little bit. Give more of a shove than Benedict did, especially in this scenario. </p><p>3. Anthony and Violet may finally be seeing eye to eye! Yes, readers, I bawled writing their scene. Also, we have officially entered what I'd like to call the 'grief arc' of the story. </p><p>4. Chaotic Duo Gregory and Hyacinth STRIKE BACK! What is Kate gonna do with these meddling kids, especially when they are putting these frivolous thoughts of LOVE in her brain! </p><p>5. I FINALLY FINISHED BENEDICT'S BOOK. When I started this fic I had only read Anthony's, Eloise's, parts of Daphne's and Francesca's, and half of Colin's and binged the show at least a dozen times, lol. I confess I wasn't necessarily keen on reading Benedict's because I loved show!Benedict and had heard (from many readers as well as fandom friends) that the two versions of him are very different. And I agree, they are. My interpretation of Benedict isn't going to change, he is very much going to still go on the journey I planned for him, if anything, the book solidified how I want to take his story. On another note I find it incredibly odd how I wrote a scene about Benedict's family sketches AND THERE IS LITERALLY A SCENE ABOUT HIS FAMILY SKETCHES IN THE BOOK. I swear, I had not read his book until now--JULIA QUINN, DO WE SHARE A BRAINCELL? Like...this is not the first time this has happened with this fic, where I have coincidentally written a character and/or situation without realizing something similar is in the books. Clearly, I have a sixth sense with this series 😂😂😂</p><p>5.5. Concerning Benedict's storyline-- He and Ethan will get their happy ending. Trust me.</p><p>6. A PARTY IS ON THE HORIZON. AND YOU KNOW DRAMA WILL HAPPEN.</p><p>7. FYI, in true JQ fashion there will be two epilogues at the end of this story. And yes, one is about a future Bridgerton Field Day as it has been requested by MANY😂</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. A Dinner in Three Scenes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we go!</p><p>Slowly responding to comments, but please know I adore each and every one and appreciate the love for this fic!</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em><strong>~ At one end of the dining table…</strong>.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Three ladies at Aubrey Hall caught the attention of Michael Stirling.</p><p> </p><p>One—Francesca. <em>Of course Francesca</em>. When didn’t she capture his attention? He knew he was a sorry fool to fall in love with his cousin’s girlfriend and his best friend, to long for her in ways he’d never longed for anyone else before, but Michael could not help himself.</p><p> </p><p>If he could stop loving Francesca, he would. But he couldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>He loved how she laughed, how her dry-wit could make the sternest man pause for a refrain, and how her eyes would twinkle with a silent charm only those closest to her were privileged to know.</p><p> </p><p>Francesca was always a given.</p><p> </p><p>Two—Violet. Michael was not joking when he claimed if he was ten years older he and Violet would be in some trouble, because he would no doubt chase her in earnest. She as a beautiful woman, aging gracefully. He’d been with older women before and there was something entirely <em>invigorating</em> about them. While he could never imagine a relationship with an older woman for the long term, they sure did tempt his fantasies, and made some of them come <em>true</em> if he were being completely honest.</p><p> </p><p>Three—Kate. <em>The Great Kate</em>, as she had been dubbed in the Stirling-Franny group chat. Francesca had sent sneaky photos of the woman, caught during a morning meal, with the caption ‘Anthony will marry her. Mark my words.’</p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t a beauty, not by societies standards in the least. But there was something about her…a man could not look away once she slyly roped him into her clutches. Whether it be the tilt of her chin, or her sharp eyes, there was a pull to Kate lesser men would never understand.</p><p> </p><p>Thank god Anthony Bridgerton wasn’t a lesser man.</p><p> </p><p>The eldest Bridgerton was bewitched by the woman. His eyes rarely left her being, and when they did—more often than not to address a siblings—his gaze landed back on her. Practically an autopilot response. An affectionate yet longing ‘<em>mine’</em> screamed in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Michael almost laughed. Almost.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t because Kate was just as bad.</p><p> </p><p>Her hand would ever so slightly nudge Anthony’s. Then pull away. She’d tuck, then untuck, then tuck her dark hair, drawing Anthony’s attention like a mating call.</p><p> </p><p>They’d share glances whenever a comment was made across the table, a silent conversation ensuing—until one of them broke away, both thoroughly out of breath. For. No. Apparent. Reason.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, they were so fucking. And if not, they were going to. <em>Soon</em>.</p><p> </p><p>(Michael prided himself on detecting such instances. <em>A real skill</em>, Franny praised once, <em>can’t put it on a resume, but a real skill nonetheless</em>.)</p><p> </p><p>Which made it all the more fun to flirt with Kate at dinner.</p><p> </p><p>“You must let me take some photos of you while I am here, Kate,” Michael insisted. “I brought most of my photography kit and accessories for the occasion of an impromptu photoshoot.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyebrows jumped. “<em>Me</em>?” she near squeaked. “Oh no,” she shook her head, a flustered, flabbergasted scoff escaping her, “I don’t do photos.”</p><p> </p><p>Michael’s brows furrowed. “Why ever not? You are an exquisite person.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony coughed, his shoulders slouching and tensing. Then slouching and tensing once more.</p><p> </p><p>Kate nudged his water closer to him, all attention fleeing towards the man on her left. “Drink water—you don’t sound well.”</p><p> </p><p>Once again, for possibly the umpteenth time that night, Anthony scowled. Yet he accepted the water, gulping the beverage. Loudly.</p><p> </p><p>Satisfied as she could be with Anthony at the moment, Kate turned back to Michael, a befuddled half smile in place. “You are too kind, Michael. A true charmer, but trust me you don’t want to take photos of me. I can never sit still and…” A flash of pain shined in her eyes, though it was replaced with the genuine kindness she always seemed happy to dole out. “…and I simply don’t like taking photos.”</p><p> </p><p>She put the matter to rest, and Michael knew when not to pressure a woman.</p><p> </p><p>“As you wish,” he nodded to her, “but I do hope dear Kate there is someone out there who cherishes your beauty as you so deserve.”</p><p> </p><p>She blinked, startled. “Oh uh…” Picking back up her fork, she sent him a tiny smile. “I…I like to imagine there is someone out there who does. Thank you, Michael.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hand disappeared under the table as did Anthony’s. He could imagine their hands clasped together, if the intense stare shared between the two were anything to go by.</p><p> </p><p>With that, Michael felt his work here was done—</p><p> </p><p>“What other kinds of photography do you do, Michael?” Anthony asked a bit brisk, apparently the moment between him and his love long gone.</p><p> </p><p>Kate also turned to him, intrigued.</p><p> </p><p>Michael did not know what to say; conversations were rarely turned to him, he preferring to be the interviewer and listener. It was safer on that side. “Oh, nothing much. Mostly freelance—”</p><p> </p><p>“He has brilliant nature shots as well as portraits,” Francesca cut in. She nudged John, muttering about switching seats. Her boyfriend followed wholeheartedly.</p><p> </p><p>She leaned past Michael, eyes dead set on her brother. Michael refrained for inhaling her lovely scent too deeply, scooting back a tad at her closeness.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyes narrowed just the slightest. From him to her. Yet she said nothing, tucking back into her asparagus and watching the exchange before her with amused interest.</p><p> </p><p>“Michael Stirling is going to become one of the best photographers in the industry one day and I believe you should hire him before you lose your chance,” she declared, sure and plain, as though she were stating a fact.</p><p> </p><p>He hated and loved when she spoke that way; as though she was sure as rain her way would be <em>the way</em>, that there would be no other option. It was inspiring, but also worrisome. Before Francesca, Michael was fine to coast by; he had a small inheritance and he was content to freelance his entire life.</p><p> </p><p>Then she had to push him. Push him to go to seminars, to apprentice with different photographers, apply for programs. Push him until he realized maybe he wanted more and it was <em>okay</em> to want more out of his career. The worst he could do was fail and go back to basic freelancing around the area.</p><p> </p><p>And now she was pushing her idea of him—the idea of his future—on to her brother. A man who owned one of largest and oldest publication and print companies in the business.</p><p> </p><p>“Is he now?” Anthony asked, eyebrows jumping.  </p><p> </p><p>“You’d be a fool not to hire him,” Francesca stated, leaning back to sit down. “At least as an in house photographer for one of the magazines.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe while he is here he can show me his portfolio,” Anthony suggested, not quite agreeing with Francesca’s demand. Michael was well aware the two weren’t close, at least not as close as Francesca longed to be with her eldest brother. But Anthony seemed to consider and weight his younger sister’s suggestions—he respected her opinions. And that said a lot. “I cannot necessarily make a hire like this—it’s not my role, but I can absolutely pull some strings if Michael is a good fit.”</p><p> </p><p>While his words were kind, his tone spoke another volume; he wasn’t sold on the idea.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure he is,” Kate suddenly interjected, attention jumping to her. “I doubt Francesca would regard just anyone in that way. Clearly, Michael has talent and skill and deserves a chance. Maybe you’re the person who can give him a chance.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony clucked his tongue. “Maybe,” he muttered. His gaze slid back to Michael. “Like I said, if your portfolio is up to par, then I’ll have some colleagues look into it and <em>maybe</em>,” he stressed, sending a look to Kate, “you’ll work for us. Maybe.”</p><p> </p><p>When Anthony resumed his meal, Kate winked at Michael.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, she was <em>good</em>. She already had the eldest Bridgerton wrapped around her finger.</p><p> </p><p>“How did you and Francesca become friends?” Kate asked moving along the conversation easily.</p><p> </p><p>“Through John,” Francesca answered this time. “John and Michael are practically brothers. Inseparable. It is impossible to know John or Michael without knowing the other.”</p><p> </p><p>This caught Anthony’s attention, a lightness to him now. More so than there was before, perhaps because Michael was no longer flirting with Kate. He made note of this. “Close to your family then?”</p><p> </p><p>“Extremely,” Michael answered. He leaned back and smacked John on the shoulder. “Isn’t that right, John?”</p><p> </p><p>John’s head bobbed up from the conversation he was having with Gregory. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just say ‘yes’.”</p><p> </p><p>His cousin frowned, shoving him off. “No. I’m not going to say ‘yes’ to anything you say without knowing the context. I won’t have what happened last time—”</p><p> </p><p>“What happened last time?” Anthony asked, knowing there had to be a story there.</p><p> </p><p>Michael could not stop his wolfish grin at his cousin’s flushed sputtering. “He said—well he said—”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing that is appropriate for dinner conversation,” he finally interjected, saving his poor cousin from further embarrassment. “I was merely telling Anthony and Kate here how we are close, cousin.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yes,” John’s kind, innocent smile greeted them. “Michael and I were raised together. Can’t imagine my life without him. He’s actually the one who convinced me to ask out Francesca,” he admitted bashfully, “to just finally ask out the pretty blue-eyed girl who sat next to me in my Latin class.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad he did,” Francesca told John quietly.</p><p> </p><p>A series of ‘<em>aws’</em> echoed from those listening.</p><p> </p><p>Francesca brief sweetness morphed into a plain faced, thin line. She hated the attention; her reaction often made Michael wonder how she played piano for all those years when she obviously hated an audience.</p><p> </p><p>“Then it’s fate you and Michael became friends,” Kate teased lightly, Francesca actually accepting this, “because if he hadn’t pushed John to talk to you, then we wouldn’t all be sitting here together.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s brows pinched, curious. “You believe in fate?”</p><p> </p><p>“I believe everything happens for a reason,” she countered swiftly, “or rather everything works out in the end. As it should.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s insufferably optimistic of you,” Anthony taunted back without missing a beat.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s nose wrinkled, a quirk to her lips. “I know. Me? Optimistic? The horror.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly, I am beside myself listening to you,” came Anthony’s dry response, yet his increasing smirk spoke the opposite.</p><p> </p><p>This was a game to them. The teasing, the taunting, the wit.</p><p> </p><p>Michael leaned over to Francesca and whispered, “Is this their foreplay?”</p><p> </p><p>She sent him a <em>look</em>—Francesca never did roll her eyes at him, but she sent a <em>look</em>; one that told him ‘<em>yes, now shut up</em>.’</p><p> </p><p>And he did just that. Or at least he’d shut up on <em>that</em> matter.</p><p> </p><p>“So what would be the best sights to photograph around here?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate immediately jumped into the discussion, Anthony joining in with almost as much enthusiasm. Apparently in her short stay thus far Kate had seen plenty of the sights of Aubrey Hall, Anthony showing her all there was to see around the grounds.</p><p> </p><p>She spoke as if she’d lived there all her life; Anthony seemed proud of this fact.</p><p> </p><p>Michael decided, pretty early on, he liked them. He liked them together. He liked them as people. He liked Anthony and Kate because there was something oddly familiar and caring to them. They were welcoming.</p><p> </p><p>He perhaps wanted to be their friend.</p><p> </p><p>Michael knew he’d need more friends once John popped the question to Franny. He couldn’t be their third-wheel forever, and he saw it best to associate with people Franny liked.</p><p> </p><p>And Franny adored her family despite her distance.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>~ On the opposite end of the dining table…</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Benedict, a word?” Violet stood from her chair, her question not a request but a simple order. She nodded to the hall behind her.</p><p> </p><p>Masking his hesitance, he excused himself from the table and followed his mother. Benedict did his best to ignore Daphne’s stare searing into his back.</p><p> </p><p>Violet led him to the further end of foyer, closer to the den. She stopped just by the turn of the staircase and faced him, eyes patient and waiting. With him his mother was always patient, an attentive ear, and ready to spill just the slightest bit of gossip if she was in possession of a detail particularly intriguing.</p><p> </p><p>However, in this instance, there was a strange desperateness to her. One he’d never seen before.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict tried not to think of how she whispered those words into his ear—“<em>I like him. He suits you.</em>”—like she meant them. Yet here they were, standing in the corridor, not even five minutes later. While he knew his mother was not a liar, panic, unnecessary panic, gripped at him from the throat.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Mother?” he pressed, standing to his full height. When she didn’t speak, he cleared his throat and slipped on a pleasant smile. “Is there something you want to discuss—”</p><p> </p><p>“Benedict,” she cut in, a gentle sternness only Violet Bridgerton could exude, “you know you can tell me anything.”</p><p> </p><p>He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Mother, I assure you I know.”</p><p> </p><p>She nodded once, her gaze trained on him, seeing right through him. His mother had an incredible knack for reading him, even when he tried his best to keep a happy, charming disposition. “Benedict, if you and Ethan are…” She paused, a small smile tugging on her lips. She knew, she did, and Benedict was fool thinking she wouldn’t. “If you love Ethan, as you so seem to do, then you should introduce him as he is—your boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>He exhaled, feeling a thousand emotions at once. Relief he didn’t have to spell it out for his mother, then panic again, sudden exhaustion from keeping up appearances…but most of all, gratitude.</p><p> </p><p>“So you…you really do like him?” Benedict breathed out. “Ethan, that is. My…my boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” his mother told him fondly.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s…” A broken chuckle escaped him, Benedict knowing he sounded a tad manic. “That’s good. I want you to like him so much. So badly,” he sputtered out, not caring if anyone heard him.</p><p> </p><p>“I do. I <em>really</em> do,” she nodded hurriedly, a giddy smile emerging. Then she faltered. “My son,” she reached for his hand; this time he didn’t shake off her hold, “if I have done anything to make you think I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t love you or him in any way, I apologize.”</p><p> </p><p>Guilt crushed Benedict. He never intended to hurt or insult his mother. He never intended to hurt or insult anyone for that matter. In all truth, Benedict wanted to be as transparent as possible, but his cowardice had a way of slipping through the cracks and overriding him at the most inopportune moments.</p><p> </p><p>He tried to get the words out. To assure his mother it wasn’t her, but all him, yet she continued to speak, the apologies running through her like a river.</p><p> </p><p>“I know…I know I have not been the best mother at times—”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict did not like seeing his mother distraught. He’d seen her distraught for far too long, he often the one she sat with when they lost Father. He’d been there to hand her tissues and hold her hand when she needed an anchor. During those first few years, his mother became his friend and he hers. He cherished their relationship, protecting the bond he had with his mother at all costs even if it meant…even if it meant not always being his full self with her and speaking in half-truths.</p><p> </p><p>“You have been wonderful—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I have not</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The gravity of the phrase silence him.</p><p> </p><p>“I have not,” Violet repeated, softer. “I treated you more like a friend rather than a son, Benedict.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like being your friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like being your mother <em>and</em> your friend,” she said, a clear difference between the two. “I know I am not always the easiest to talk to. I meddle. I do it because I care.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I’ve focused so much on keeping appearances together and making sure you all becoming somewhat functioning adults, I missed all the good bits of parenting.” Her hand held his in a tight grip, just as she used to when she desperately needed someone there. Anyone. “I was <em>so</em> focused on making sure we looked like a put together family after a tragedy, I missed what was left of your childhood—all of your childhoods. I missed the fact one of my sons is in love and he is terrified to tell me.” His mother gave him a broken smile. “You have nothing to be terrified of Benedict—every single person in that dining room loves you and if they don’t love you yet, they are already halfway there.” Despite her short stature compared to his, Benedict felt he was finally at her level. He was finally seeing there was a woman behind his grieving, meddlesome mother. A woman who was looking towards the future rather than the past. Hope suited his mother well. “Ethan deserves to be acknowledged as your boyfriend. And you deserve it too.”</p><p> </p><p>“I…never knew you felt so passionately about…about well, us,” Benedict confessed. “All of us.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet clutched her hand to her chest, her soft and sincere smiling returning. Benedict had a feeling this time it wouldn’t fade away. “Of course I do. I need to show it better and more often.”</p><p> </p><p>“I—I think I really hurt Ethan in there,” Benedict’s voice cracked, his face crumpling before he could stop himself, “didn’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think you hurt yourself more.” Her hands cupped his face, same as she did when he was a boy, a cleanly wiped away his few tears. “But there is still time to fix this. There is still time for you to make this right.”</p><p> </p><p>God, he could not recall the last time he cried in front of his mother. The last time he cried in front of anyone.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay…” A shuddering, teary breath rose through him. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now you clean up your face, and then go back in there and be the man I know you can be.”</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>When Benedict introduced Ethan as his boyfriend, he was met with exactly what his mother described—love. Daphne immediately tittered on about her plans for Ethan’s wardrobe, while Gregory assured him that he did not need to take any of her suggestions to heart, as nobody did.</p><p> </p><p>Then there was the fact most of the table knew about his relationship with Ethan despite his rather late, official announcement.</p><p> </p><p>“Oi, this is old news,” Eloise grumbled, shoveling a forkful of roasted potatoes into her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict lodged a biscuit at her head.</p><p> </p><p>This only shut her up for two seconds, however the reaction made Ethan laugh for far longer.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>~ Somewhere in the middle…</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“What the hell do you mean Colin is <em>gone</em>?” Eloise stressed, interrogating her second sibling of the evening—Daphne. Feeling too far away from her, she deftly lifted Oliver from his seat and plopped him into hers, disregarding both Phillip and the boy’s protests. She leaned back, looking past Phillip, Hyacinth, and Simon to Daphne. Her sister matched her leaning, raising an eyebrow. “Where could he have gone?” Her eyes screwed shut. “Nevermind. It’s Colin. He probably got so consumed by his stupidity and fled the country!”</p><p> </p><p>A good four feet away Daphne shook her head.</p><p> </p><p>See, Eloise would usually wave off the reaction on the assumption Daphne had no valuable information. But this was not the case.</p><p> </p><p>All because of how Daphne shook her head. She was <em>smug</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Her sister knew where their brother was and she was keeping it to herself.</p><p> </p><p>The selfish imp!</p><p> </p><p>Dissatisfied with the distance between them, Eloise nudged Phillip out of his seat. “Move, I need to speak with my sister.”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip huffed, mid-bite. “You can just lean over to speak to Hyacinth. I suppose I don’t mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“My other sister!” Eloise nudged him again.</p><p> </p><p>Knowing it best to not argue with Eloise when she was in this determined state and while there were utensils around, Phillip stood up and waved to the vacated chair. “Be my damn guest.”</p><p> </p><p>She batted her eyelashes at him as she slid into his seat. Beside her Phillip sat back down and switch their plates, as well as Oliver’s, whom she completely left to fend for himself.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise leaned back once more, chucking a piece of asparagus at Daphne’s shoulder. The green barely tapped her and flopped to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh!” Daphne yelped. A fierce glare was shot Eloise’s way. “Really, Eloise?”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me! I know you know where he is at!”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Daphne upturned her nose and resumed her meal.</p><p> </p><p>A growl grew in the back of her throat, Eloise ready to lung at her sister.</p><p> </p><p>But she didn’t. Because Daphne was pregnant and they were at dinner, and she was positive Anthony would blow a gasket if another ridiculous incident occurred over dinner.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, Eloise tapped insistently on Hyacinth’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Her youngest sister didn’t spare her a glance. “No. I’m not moving. You’d have to kick me off this chair to get past me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Desperate times call for desperate measures and I am not above such tactics,” Eloise threatened.</p><p> </p><p>A push of a chair’s legs caught their attention.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you care to switch seats Eloise?” Simon offered, his plate already in hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d be delighted!” Beaming up at him, Eloise sprang from her spot and shuffled over to her new spot. “Simon, have I told you lately you are my favorite brother-in-law?”</p><p> </p><p>A wry smile formed on his lips. “I’m your only brother-in-law, Eloise.”</p><p> </p><p>She peered over the table, surveying the room with a keen eye. Almost all the siblings were paired off in some sort of way; all except Gregory and Hyacinth. “By the looks of it, probably not for long. So take the compliment while you still can.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon shook his head good-naturedly and took her seat.</p><p> </p><p>Without further fuss Eloise dropped down in the chair beside Daphne. “Spill. Now. Where did he go?”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne lifted her glass of water, taking a long, leisure sip.</p><p> </p><p>Rolling her eyes, Eloise leaned against the back of the chair, eyes glued on her sister. “I’ll be here, no matter how long you take. I’m not leaving.”</p><p> </p><p>Her sister paused, then continued her drinking.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise groaned, head plopping against the edge of the table.</p><p> </p><p>“He went to go find Penelope. Confess his undying love for her.”</p><p> </p><p>In a snap Eloise’s head shot back up. “<em>Shut up</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne nodded primly. “Yes. He did. And all from my advice.”</p><p> </p><p>She scoffed. “Please—like Colin would go to you for advice.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe he didn’t come to me for advice, but I still gave it to him,” Daphne huffed, trying to sit taller. As though sitting straighter would make her taller than Eloise, who had a good two inches on her. “He could be patching things up with Penelope as we speak!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh!” Eloise nearly thumped and stomped her feet. “No—<em>no</em>! I’m the one who is suppose to patch things up with Pen first! She’s <em>my</em> best friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“And he’s in love with her,” Daphne shot back, aghast. “He get’s first dibs in the apology line!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve known her longer,” Eloise felt the need to point out. “If anyone gets first dibs, it’s the best friend in this star-crossed fall out!”</p><p> </p><p>“If you cared so much about her and apologizing first, then why didn’t you go after her?” Daphne’s question landed a steady blow, Eloise had to admit. And her sister knew it too, her lips up turning into that smug, knowing smirk.</p><p> </p><p>“Because…” Eloise glanced around the table, Phillip and the children in her line of sight. “Because…well, I had my own shit to deal with.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then perhaps Colin is Penelope’s shit to deal with too,” Daphne told her so plainly. “Have you ever thought of that?”</p><p> </p><p>“No because—”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you are thinking about yourself,” Daphne finished. “Understandably so. But still.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t the only one lying,” Eloise mumbled, swathed with guilt. “She was lying too.”</p><p> </p><p>“That still doesn’t justify treating your friend the way you did,” Daphne told her softly. She rested a hand on Eloise’s shoulder, shifting ever so slightly to face her. “Let her and Colin figure out their problems. Then maybe…maybe tomorrow you call her. Or text her. But reach out.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise frowned. “When did you become wise? You aren’t wise. You are the opposite of wise.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne shrugged, turning back to her meal. “I believe it came with the pregnancy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I doubt women are suddenly gifted wisdom upon being with child,” Eloise said, unamused by the theory.</p><p> </p><p>“Well this one is.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise decided to let Daphne has this moment. But just this one moment.</p><p> </p><p>Tomorrow she’d resume her interrogations and investigations. After all, she’d still needed to know what happened with Colin and Pen!</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>~ After Dinner….</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anthony wouldn’t stop staring at her.</p><p> </p><p>Whilst normally Kate would ignore his stares (as she had done so in the past, for the sake of his embarrassment and her awkwardness) his pensiveness signaled this was more than a simple stare. Anthony was caught in the trappings of deep thought.</p><p> </p><p>Correction: Had been in the trappings of deep thought for a solid ten minutes.</p><p> </p><p>Silence between them had never bothered her, but it was growing colder and later, and she knew he must have had something he needed to speak about without the ears of his family overhearing if he offered to go outside with her.</p><p> </p><p>“I am sure you find Newton relieving himself as riveting as Shakespeare, but I assure you he is not,” Kate tutted.</p><p> </p><p>He blinked, dumbfounded. “<em>Hm</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Penny for your thoughts?” she tried instead.</p><p> </p><p>Newton tugged further away, Kate following along.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony kept pace beside her, lips chewed together as they walked steadily along the lit path around the house.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you like taking photos?”</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” Kate’s head snapped to him.</p><p> </p><p>“The penny for my thoughts,” he reminded her unnecessarily, “my thought was ‘why does Kate not like taking photos’?” His cheeky grin formed into something softer, a kin to the smile she’d grown to love. “Hence the question—why don’t you like taking photos?”</p><p> </p><p>“Does anyone like taking photos?” Kate countered gamely.</p><p> </p><p>“The entire social media landscape would say ‘yes.’”</p><p> </p><p>Her nose wrinkled. Social media struck back again.</p><p> </p><p>Newton nudged his nose into the dirt, peering up slightly at Kate and Anthony as he did so. As though being naughty would garner their attention. It didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have an Instagram,” she said with a shrug. “I am not technically part of this social media landscape statistic you speak of.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you don’t,” Anthony said, surprising Kate. “Don’t look at me like that. With the amount of times Edwina mentioned you, I got curious. An annoyed curiosity, but curious nonetheless.” Kicking a pebble in their path, he spared her a forbearing glance. “Still doesn’t answer my question.”</p><p> </p><p>Twisting Newton’s leash in her hand, Kate shrugged. “I just…I just have never liked taking photos. I don’t understand the appeal or desire to do so.” An awkwardness settled in her bones at confessing a matter so mundane and odd. Taking photos—with family, friends, commemorative events—were normal actions and reactions.</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless at the sight of camera Kate’s skin positively crawled.</p><p> </p><p>“Never?” Anthony asked, staring at her in that pensive way again. “Not even as child?”</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head. “I was forced to take photos, of course. Who isn’t?” she tried to joke, yet there was nothing humorous in Anthony’s face. He looked…<em>pained</em>. “It’s not that big of a deal. I don’t understand why you are poking at this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I want to know.”</p><p> </p><p>“And maybe I don’t want to tell you!” she snapped back.</p><p> </p><p>Regret instantly flooded her, Anthony’s eyes filled with overbearing dismay. Dismay of <em>her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“I…” She cleared her throat, tucking a loose curl back behind her ears. When it didn’t stay in place, she dug into her windbreaker pocket for a hairpin. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap—” Her two found pins slipped from her fingers on to the path. Kate grunted. “Damn it.”</p><p> </p><p>She dropped down to grab her fallen pins, only for Anthony to crouch beside her.</p><p> </p><p>“I can find them—” Kate began to insist. All excuses were futile as he held the pins out to her. “Thank you,” she muttered.</p><p> </p><p>“May I?” He motioned to her hair, specifically the errant curl.</p><p> </p><p>“Just don’t pull,” she relented.</p><p> </p><p>He smirked. “I thought you <em>liked</em> pulling.”</p><p> </p><p>She scoffed. “You know what I mean.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s quiet, breathy chuckles danced between them. Kate almost wanted to join in. She didn’t. Instead she remained still as he carefully pinned back her bothersome curl, down her temple to behind her ear. He then secured it with the other, crisscrossing the two pins.</p><p> </p><p>“There,” he announced, finished with his work, “that should be good.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sisters’ teach you that?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” he answered, a tinge of red smattering his cheeks, “I uh…I sort of went through a long hair phase when I was seventeen…” His mouth snapped shut, eyes scrunched. “It was bad. Very bad.”</p><p> </p><p>Her jaw dropped. “You had long hair?”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought it was cool,” he defended, a bit shrill. “My father had enough of it though, and ‘accidentally’ got chewing gum stuck in my hair.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you had to chop it all off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Precisely.” He leaned back a little on his heels, trying to keep his balance crouched on the ground beside her. “I’m glad he did. I mostly stuck with the hair out of my own stupidity,” he confessed with a nostalgic smile, “to rile my parents. Annoy my sisters. Plus all the cool guys at the time had long hair and they had the girlfriends. But I hated it,” he shook his head at the memory, “I hated it so much.”</p><p> </p><p>She quirked an eyebrow. “Win any ladies with the hair?”</p><p> </p><p>“None,” he uttered.</p><p> </p><p>“Pity.” As much as Anthony was charming and handsome in his adulthood, Kate easily pictured a disgruntled and pouty teenager in his place. One who maybe knew how to act around adults, but perhaps struggled with his own peers. Kept them at a healthy distance.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll have to show you a photo some time,” he said, slowly standing back up to his feet. He offered a hand to Kate, she accepting. “My mother has plenty of photo albums to pander out at mine, and all my siblings, expense.”</p><p> </p><p>“As most mothers do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please tell me, Kate.” He brought their joined hands to his lips, a faint kiss pressed to her knuckles. “Tell me why photos bother you.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s silly,” she said without feeling. She wanted to wiggle her hand out of his and swat him away. However his warmth, his comfort, made it all the more difficult to entertain such an idea.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing is silly.” He paused, considering his claim. “Okay, maybe not <em>nothing</em>, but this isn’t silly if it bothers you this much.”</p><p> </p><p>Her lips quirked. He was sweet when he wanted to be, and it felt like he wanted to be more often than not these last few days.</p><p> </p><p>If she explained why, carefully and without succumbing into self-pity, then maybe she’d be okay. Maybe Anthony would let the matter go.</p><p> </p><p>“I…” She cleared her throat and forced herself to look at him. Kate wasn’t going to speak to the ground when Anthony was right there, waiting with baited breath. Not when she had someone who wanted to listen; she had more confidence than that. “I don’t always find what I see in the mirror beautiful. I, uh, don’t find myself to be all that attractive in that sense.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony didn’t say anything. Nor made the move too. He appeared confound. Thoroughly speechless.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t understand why. Kate had never garnered the attention of men in the past, most flocking to Edwina. Throughout school and university she’d been overlooked by her peers as they slowly started pairing off and getting married and forming families of their own. She’d never been the ideal for most men—she’d never been the petite, gentle face, homely woman, or as most put the ‘conventional’ beauty. She’d never been an Edwina.</p><p> </p><p>She was always Kate; with her too pointy chin, too large eyes, and too full mouth. Too much and not enough.</p><p> </p><p>While she never hated herself, or her appearances, she found it hard to look at herself from time to time.</p><p> </p><p>“You are beautiful.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s conviction frightened her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate shook her head, quick to deflect. He was being sweet again, charming her. “You’re just saying that—”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean it.” His tone warned her not argue, his eyes pleaded for her to give him a chance.</p><p> </p><p>Biting her lips together, Kate listened.</p><p> </p><p>A breeze past, once again dislodging a few of her tucked away curls.</p><p> </p><p>“You <em>are</em> beautiful,” he repeated, his hand leaving hers in favor of tucking her hair back in place. “When I first laid eyes on you I was stunned by your beauty.”</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t believe this. “What do you mean—”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you were beautiful from the moment I saw you and you were spilling all your belongings on to the ground,” he told her, mirth dancing in his eyes at the memory. “All I could think was how anyone could have overlooked you when…when…when you are <em>indescribable</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>This felt too much. Anthony was gazing down at her in a way she’d never experienced before—like she was the only person in the world. The only one who mattered.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know what to say,” she confessed, a half tearful laugh trapped in her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a first.”</p><p> </p><p>She swatted at his chest, Anthony’s quiet chuckles easing her once more.</p><p> </p><p>Hands cupping her face, a lone finger trailing down from her temple to her chin. His eyes kept steady hold of hers, as though daring her to look away. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t. “I found you beautiful, and then you opened your mouth,” she rolled her eyes, having a knowing feeling of where this was going, “and I found you annoyingly brilliant, even while you were insulting me.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hands and feet moved on their own accord, grasping his face and the back of his neck as she sprung to the balls of her feet. A clumsy, neck breaking kiss was pressed into the corner of his mouth, Anthony quick to wrap his arms around Kate before she fell with her momentum.</p><p> </p><p>Pulling away, her nose bumped into his, keeping close and not a hair further. “If you keep on saying more sweet nothings I am going to have to kiss you senseless.”</p><p> </p><p>She felt his smirk ghost her cheek. “Maybe that is my goal,” he murmured against her skin, his mouth trailing along her jaw, light and teasing. “I want to be the person to take photos of you, not that Scottish flirt.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate leaned away from him, brows furrowed. “Michael’s nice.”</p><p> </p><p>“And a flirt,” he ground out.</p><p> </p><p>“You liked him.” Once the ice had been broken and Francesca entered the conversation, Anthony warmed up to Michael, their conversation spanning from the business to the upcoming premiere league season.</p><p> </p><p>“Once he stopped flirting with you.” His arms tensed ever so slightly around her, keeping her close to his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyebrows shot up. “You were jealous.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony scowled deeply.</p><p> </p><p>“You were!”</p><p> </p><p>He looked away, staring up at the clouding sky. “Perhaps I was.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever for?” she asked, genuinely stumped by this development.</p><p> </p><p>“Because—” Anthony struggled to find the words, mouth opening and closing pathetically. “Because…well, because you’re mine, damn it. And I want you to be mine. Not some Scottish flirt’s who’s your age and can make you laugh too.” His forehead bumped against hers. “<em>I</em> like making you laugh.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like making you laugh too.” This seemed to soften him, the tension in his shoulders melting away. “You have nothing—” she poked at his chest, Anthony feigning a flinch, “—to worry about. I want you to be mine too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” he muttered. “Because I think I want to tell my family. About this. About us.”</p><p> </p><p>She faltered. “I thought we agreed—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” he was quick to assure, “I know what we agreed. And this is still new. Less than a few days new,” he added with a snort. “But Colin saw us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he breathed out, “and with everything that has happened with him and Pen, I…” He chewed the inside of his check, shaking his head to himself. “I don’t want to be a hypocrite. Least of all to my brother.”</p><p> </p><p>“But…” The phrase ‘we aren’t the same’ was on the tip of her tongue. However, Kate held back.</p><p> </p><p>Because Anthony had a point. They would be—<em>he would be</em>—a hypocrite if they kept their budding relationship to themselves. Yet…</p><p> </p><p>Kate didn’t want the entire house to know. At least not just yet.</p><p> </p><p>While she’d grown to care for the Bridgertons, she knew they were a flawed—majorly flawed—family with plenty of their own troubles and tribulations. Or rather their own brand of drama, to put plainly.</p><p> </p><p>Not to mention with their father’s anniversary looming in a few days…an announcement of any kind would only cause more friction.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t want to add to the chaos, and she knew Anthony was not keen on it either.</p><p> </p><p>“How about we wait until after the sixteenth?” Kate suggested. “Maybe before or after your mother’s party. It gives us time…time to still figure this out.”</p><p> </p><p>For a moment Anthony considered the idea, then conceded. “Okay. We can do that.” His mouth came close to her ear, thrilling shiver rising up her spine. “But know I—”</p><p> </p><p>Newton’s whines broke the moment.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony pulled away, any salacious words he near uttered gone. “Newton my boy, I think it is time for us to go inside. You are shivering like a caught bandit.”</p><p> </p><p>As if answering him, Newton stretched down and yawn, his little body gearing back in motion as his master’s call.</p><p> </p><p>God, even she was now acknowledging Anthony had become an intermittent master for Newton. What had become of her?</p><p> </p><p>Releasing the leash from Kate’s grip, Anthony nudged Newton along the path while keeping one arm looped through hers. Together they walked back towards the house in companionable silence, she leaning into his warmth as the wind wisped by in its evening greetings.</p><p> </p><p>As they came up to the mudroom’s backdoor, Anthony handed Newton’s leash back to Kate. She climbed up the steps ahead of him, he lingering back. Confused, she turned to him, “Aren’t you—”</p><p> </p><p>A distinct flash shined back at her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate froze, blinking owlishly back at him.</p><p> </p><p>“There.” Anthony still held his phone aloft, a decent angle to capture a candid photo. He tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Consider that the first of many.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would you do that?” she near sputtered.</p><p> </p><p>He climbed the last steps up to her. “Because I said I want to be the person to take photos of you. And I intend to do just that until you see yourself the way I see you.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate could not decide if she was exasperated or flattered by his adamant ways. “That is a daunting endeavor.”</p><p> </p><p>“One I am willing to take every day.” He pressed one final kiss to her cheek before opening the mudroom door. “After you.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>~ Meanwhile elsewhere…</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Colin knocked on the door again.</p><p> </p><p>“Pen!” he called out. “I know you are in there!”</p><p> </p><p>In actuality he had no idea if Penelope was in her flat. This was merely an educated guess, one he was rolling with full steam ahead. She had to come back home at some point, <em>right</em>? Sure, Pen had a life outside of him and Eloise, with her family and work, but she’d taken the holiday and partial remote work. She could not have gone far.</p><p> </p><p>Could she?</p><p> </p><p>Gods, now he was second guessing himself and this stupid plan to get her back. Maybe marching over to her apartment—after a three hour train ride mind you, followed by a half hour cabbie ride—wasn’t the wisest form of action. Especially when he packed up his duffle and left Aubrey Hall with little word to the rest of his family.</p><p> </p><p>At least Daphne could come up with some excuse for him. Lord knows he didn’t need any of his siblings trying to reach him to give them their own two cents on this Penelope debacle.</p><p> </p><p>As he raised his hand to do another round of knocks, his phone buzzed in rapid succession.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><strong> <em> <span class="u">Eloise at the Plaza (AKA YOUR FAVORITE SISTER </span> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <span class="u">😛</span> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <span class="u"> )</span> </em> </strong></p><p>
  <strong> <em>WHY DID YOU LEAVE WITHOUT TELLING ME?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p><strong> <em> <span class="u">Eloise at the Plaza (AKA YOUR FAVORITE SISTER </span> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <span class="u">😛</span> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <span class="u"> )</span> </em> </strong></p><p>
  <strong> <em>AND TO CHASE AFTER PEN?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p><strong> <em> <span class="u">Eloise at the Plaza (AKA YOUR FAVORITE SISTER </span> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <span class="u">😛</span> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <span class="u"> )</span> </em> </strong></p><p>
  <strong> <em>YOU ARE NO JOHN CUSACK BROTHER.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The universe hated him. That had to be it. All his good karma had finally did a one-eighty, Colin receiving ill situation after another to make up for the last twenty-eight years of semi-decent luck.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <span class="u">Daff</span> </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Heads-up: Eloise knows you left.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I told her the truth.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Sorry, but I am trying to be honest here.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Love you brother &lt;3</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>Colin huffed, poising his thumbs to respond to both sisters’ messages, when his phone buzzed again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <span class="u">Marcus Antonius</span> </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Col, I don’t want you to think I am a hypocrite.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I’m not. And while I don’t want to explain this over text</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>you haven’t answered any of our calls so…I am limited </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>on options here.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Kate and I talked. We’re going to tell the family about us</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>after mother’s party on the 17<sup>th</sup>. We weren’t trying to sneak </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>around or keep it a secret, we simply wanted to keep this new </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>thing between us until we knew what it was. I’m sorry.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Rereading the giant paragraph of Anthony’s text (when <em>didn’t</em> his brother text in giant paragraphs?), Colin sighed. He hadn’t meant to be such a dick to Anthony when he saw him the morning before.</p><p> </p><p>But seeing Anthony seemingly part take in the very action he scolded him for? Well, Colin could not help his ire.</p><p> </p><p>In retrospect…well he hated the fact he said anything at all. He rooted for Kate and Anthony! He, like the rest of the family, believed them to be perfect for each other. And he had to let his own stubborn hurt and denial ruin a good thing.</p><p> </p><p>Deciding to be mature (<em>for once,</em> a voice sounding oddly like Eloise snapped in his head) Colin began to respond to Anthony—</p><p> </p><p>Only for another message to come in.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <span class="u">BENNY BOY</span> </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I introduced Ethan to the family.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>WHERE. THE. HELL. WERE. YOU.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>A groan escaped Colin. Damn it, he was missing everything wasn’t he?</p><p> </p><p>Leaning back against Pen’s door, he slowly slid to the ground until he sat in a pathetic heap.</p><p> </p><p>Another buzz.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <span class="u">BENNY BOY</span> </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>But seriously I wanted you there.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Ethan really wanted to meet you.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Also—why did I have to find out from DAPHNE of all people</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>that you decided to go John Cusack and win Pen’s heart?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Why John Cusack…?” Colin muttered. That as the second John Cusack reference in less than ten minutes. Either Eloise and Benedict were conspiring together or—or perhaps he exuded more John Cusack energy than he initially believed. “Am I a John Cusack?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin’s head snapped up.</p><p> </p><p>A few paces away stood Penelope with a bag of take-out in her hand. Her hair was pilled high on her head, strands of the warmest auburn slipping out. She looked just as tired as he felt, he spotting her wearing her cozy sweatpants and flannel. <em>His</em> flannel.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Pen</em>!” He scrambled to his feet, dwarfing her in an instant. “Hi—hi how are you?”</p><p> </p><p>He immediately cringed. What a perfect way to <em>not</em> greet the woman he adored after fucking things up.</p><p> </p><p>She ignored the question, her sharp and perceptive blue eyes scanning him. “You aren’t a John Cusack. I’m pretty sure you’ve never seen <em>Say Anything</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin paused, wracking his brain for the film title, only to come up short. “No. No, I haven’t.” The only John Cusack film he recalled with clarity was <em>American Sweethearts</em>, and that was mostly due to the fact his sisters went through a very hardcore rom-com stage as teenagers and he had the largest crush on Julia Roberts.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe more of a Matthew McConaughey or a Hugh Grant. But you aren’t a John Cusack.” Penelope’s nose scrunched. “And even then you don’t quite fit that rom-com trope do you? Sweet boy who makes one too many mistakes?”</p><p> </p><p>He flushed at the observation. “I—uh—I came here to apolo—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” She waved her phone with her free hand. “<em>Lady</em> <em>Whistledown</em> tweeted about a packed Aubrey Hall of a few cars arriving and one leaving the estate.”</p><p> </p><p>Damn <em>Whistledown</em> and her ever loyal watchdogs; nothing could get past her. “And you figured it was me leaving?”</p><p> </p><p>A small shrug danced her shoulders. “That and Daphne messaging me about how I should give you another chance as well as a very profuse apology on her behalf.”</p><p> </p><p>Of course Daphne messaged Penelope. Honestly, Colin should have expected this.</p><p> </p><p>“I see.”</p><p> </p><p>She nodded once, a slip of auburn hair falling past her ear. He resisted the urge to tuck the strand back in place. “As much as I appreciate this…<em>gesture</em>—” the word did not sit right on her tongue, “—I’d prefer if you went home, Colin.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Home</em>. His home for the last eight years was a suitcase. Long ago he cleared out his room at his mother’s apartments and had what remained packed up by his siblings then shoved into Anthony’s spare bedroom when he was on another continent. He never stayed anywhere for long, crashing in the spare bedroom from time to time when he had a layover or short break between trips.</p><p> </p><p>Then Pen happened.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly he had a reason to stay. To not stare at the dull walls of his ‘bedroom’ at Anthony’s but be with her, in <em>her</em> world. Going to the pub for a drink together before last call then running over to the first open coffeeshop as the sun began to rise, listening to her rant and rave about her colleagues, sharing his favorite music and videos from his travels with her and seeing her bright eyes light up with wonder, discovering her passion for writing and telling the most absurd and earnest stories…</p><p> </p><p>Somewhere along the way between exotic trips and hashed out blogs and coups amounts of coffee, Penelope wiggled herself a nice little spot in his heart.</p><p> </p><p>She made herself his home.</p><p> </p><p>“But you’re my home.”</p><p> </p><p>Her mouth formed an ‘o.’</p><p> </p><p>Bright blue eyes stared at him, growing increasingly wider with each passing second.</p><p> </p><p>He…<em>surprised</em> her? This never happened. Not once. Penelope was too perceptive for her own good to be fooled or shocked so easily. This—this fueled him. Encouraged him. He couldn’t cower away. Not now. Not when she as here and he was here and she was listening.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re my home,” he repeated, rooted in place. “And I hurt you. I’m sorry I made you feel like a secret Pen. That was never my intention.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then what was your intention?” she shot back, collecting herself in an expert manner. “To sleep with me until you were done with me or were coerced into confessing—”</p><p> </p><p>“My intention was to be close with you without tying you down to me,” he cut in, unable to handle the twisted theories she conjured. “You and I both know I’m never here. I’ll stop in London once every month to a couple of months. That’s no way to have a relationship.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tie me down?” she asked. “You thought…you thought you’d <em>tie me down</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes because I’ll hold you back. I have my work and my work comes first. Always has and—”</p><p> </p><p>“Haven’t you ever thought I like being tied down to you?” she quiet interjection stilled him. “Or maybe I’d want to go on one of your adventures?”</p><p> </p><p>“You would?” His mind went racing at the idea; he wanted to show Pen the world, through his lens. Oh, how the thought thrilled him to no end.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” she said, a watery chuckle prickling through the phrase. “I’d be happy to go anywhere you go. Whether that be here or—or Greece or the States or Brazil! Anywhere with you would be perfect.”</p><p> </p><p>She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, blue eyes darting away from him. Bashful, oh so bashful, when she was the furthest thing from it.</p><p> </p><p>With startling clarity Colin realized two things:</p><p> </p><p>One—he was worried over nothing. Anthony was right. Benedict was right. Daphne was right. He had to just talk to her, speak from the heart.</p><p> </p><p>Two—he was the most colossal idiot he knew.</p><p> </p><p>Stepping up to Pen, Colin took a knee before her. He gazed up at her, pleading. “Pen, please let me fix this. Please? Let us fix this together. Please give me another chance to do this right.”</p><p> </p><p>Biting her lips together, Penelope stared down at him, eyes clouding over in deep deliberation. He should have known she wouldn’t give in easily; he didn’t expect her to. Pen deserved the best and she knew it. She had to have know it, and if not, he’d spend the rest of his days proving it to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Please Pen…”</p><p> </p><p>Her take-out dropped to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>Colin began to reach for it, always ready to save food, when two hands caught his face.</p><p> </p><p>“This is your <em>only</em> chance,” she warned him, eyes piercing into his soul. “Don’t fuck it up.”</p><p> </p><p>Her lips crashed against his and Colin knew he finally made it home.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>POLIN SHIPPERS WHERE YOU AT? I DID THE THING. I MADE HIM BEG ON HIS KNEES.</p><p>Some Notes~</p><p>1. The idea for this chapter was the three scenes at dinner were happening simultaneously. Hopefully that came across well enough.</p><p>2. Michael Stirling. Love him. That's it.</p><p>2.5. Did anyone catch the "when John pops the question" bit? 👀</p><p>3. VIOLET AND BENEDICT HAD THEIR MOMENT. </p><p>4. Honestly, Eloise and Daphne are my favorite sister duo and I had too much fun letting them shine in that middle bit!</p><p>5. Kate and Anthony's conversation about taking photos is important. Its a conversation I wanted them to have since the beginning, and if you read back there are lots of little nuggets pointing to Kate's detest for photos and an insecurity regarding how she viewed herself in terms of attractiveness, similar to the book. I think for women who have never been deemed classically pretty or societally pretty, the concept of beauty and being 'beautiful' is hard for us to apply to ourselves. I didn't want Kate to immediately find herself beautiful because Anthony does--that's something she has to work through herself and a man (even if that man is ANTHONY BRIDGERTON) cannot fix that for her. But he can love her and shower her with the affirmations she deserves :)</p><p>6. At some point we will learn everyone's names for each other in their phones 🤣 My personal favorites from this chapter are 'Eloise at the Plaza' and 'Marcus Antonius' aka Mark Antony.</p><p>6.5. Fun Fact: In American Sweethearts, Julia Roberts plays a 'wallflower' type character ;) </p><p>7. For everyone who is asking and curious--as of right now there are about three other companion stories being developed for this universe. One is the sequel and the other two are short multi-chapters. </p><p>8. Another thing being asked--WILL WE MEET ALL THE FUTURE SPOUSES IN THIS FIC? My answer: Define meet? 😂 We are still missing two key players--Lucy and Gareth (both of whom I adore--yes I started reading It's In His Kiss and yes, older Anthony is my fav, lol). I can assure Lucy and Gareth will ABSOLUTELY be in the sequel......as for this story, keep your eyes peeled in the next couple of chapters; someone's relative might drag them to a certain party against their will 😉</p><p>Let me know what you think!</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Sibling Bonding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This might be the longest chapter I have posted for any fic ever so bear with me. </p><p>Slowly replying to comments! Might not be able to get to some of the ones from further chapters back, but know I adore all your thoughts, opinions, and love for this fic--please never stop sharing them!</p><p>WARNING: Plenty of drinking occurs in this chapter. </p><p>ALSO LET'S PRETEND I KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HOW BIG BUSINESS AND SHAREHOLDING WORK. BECAUSE I DON'T BUT THIS IS FICTION, FAN-FICTION, SO ALAS.</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! I scanned this multiple times, but they are bound to exist no matter what, lol.</p><p>Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure you’ll be fine without me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Positive,” Kate uttered, more confident than Anthony expected. Maybe he wanted her to miss him a little, not being ready to push him out the door. But then again Kate did not seem like the clingy type; <em>fiercely independent</em> was the best description for her. She liked her space and her personal time. More than once she kicked him out of her room when she simply needed to ‘be alone.’ “I have some work I need to get done. A teaching aid I need to contact.” She shrugged, leaning comfortably back in the arm chair across from him. “Need I remind you I <em>do</em> have a life outside of these hallowed halls.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony tucked his laptop into his leather briefcase, busying himself. “I am aware.” He was, he just didn’t like to acknowledge the fact these moments between them would not be their ‘normal’ one day—he had a busy life, she did too, and a life outside of Aubrey Hall would be very different. “I don’t want you to get too lonely without me.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate laughed.</p><p> </p><p>Full, head-thrown back, cackling laughter.</p><p> </p><p>He glowered at her.</p><p> </p><p>Her giggles only came harder at the sight.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not like I haven’t been spending the last few weeks here getting to know everyone,” she drawled out once catching her breath. “It would be difficult to be lonely, of all things, at Aubrey Hall. You have nothing to worry about, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>Walking around the desk, he stopped in front of the armchair. He leaned over, hands on the armrests as he peered down at her.</p><p> </p><p>Her dark eyes stared up at him through thick lashes. It took all his willpower to not devour her in that instant. Oh how he longed to be lost in all that was Kate—he’d rather be lost in <em>her</em> than pack up his desk and drive back to his London flat for an appointment the following early morning.</p><p> </p><p>“You, my dearest friend, are a menace to society.” The flare of annoyance in her eyes thrilled him. She looked ready to pounce him, and not in the fun way. He chuckled lowly. “I cannot help but worry for those who are left in your company.”</p><p> </p><p>Her lips pursed shrewdly and head tilted to the side, perhaps calculating all the ways she could harm him without causing any true damage. “If I recall correctly,<em> I </em>am the company <em>you’ve </em>been choosing to keep around these days. What does that say about you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think you know what it says.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm,” her eyes narrowed devilishly, “I think I’d like to hear it.”</p><p> </p><p>He inched closer, ever so slowly, eyes falling to her lips. “It means, Katherine, I—”</p><p> </p><p>A thundering knock sound on his door as warning before being thrown open with less than stellar tact. “Anthony, we need to talk about—” Benedict stopped short upon entering the room, eyes widening at the sight of them.</p><p> </p><p>More specifically the very little space between Anthony and Kate.</p><p> </p><p>Clearing his throat, Anthony pushed himself away from Kate and turned to face his brother. He made no effort to hide a bit of his aggravation. “<em>Yes</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“I…” Benedict’s lips twitched, a faint smirk forming. “If I was interrupting—”</p><p> </p><p>“Not interrupting,” Kate chimed in, saving both men from further embarrassment or explanation. She stood up from the armchair. “I was just leaving,” she announced, side stepping the two brothers in favor for the door. Her eyes slid back to Anthony, a little glimmer of sweet longing and tender farewell in her gaze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll call you tonight,” he countered.</p><p> </p><p>“You won’t,” she called over her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“I will.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I’ll ignore it,” she declared. She turned to him upon reaching the doorway. “You know what?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” he baited, grinning.</p><p> </p><p>“I think <em>you</em> might be one who might not be fine without me, Mr. Anthony Bridgerton.”</p><p> </p><p>Hands in his pocket, Anthony chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking away from her.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of being right. She see it all over his face.</p><p> </p><p>Pleased with herself, Kate left the study, a small skip to her step. Of course the blasted woman would relish in leaving him in tangles.</p><p> </p><p>Across from him Benedict chuckled lightly. “She sure does know how to make you a mess, doesn’t she?”</p><p> </p><p>Shaking his head, Anthony crossed over to the door, shutting it closed. “I don’t know what you mean,” he gritted out, clearing his throat once more. He turned to his brother, attempting his best pleasant-neutral expression. Benedict clearly came to his study for a reason; it was best to focus on him and his problems than the woman down the hall. “What is it you needed to discuss?”</p><p> </p><p>“Daphne and Simon mentioned you are leaving,” Benedict said plopping himself in the armchair nearby. With ease his feet kicked up on the edge of the large mahogany desk, a muscle memory reaction. Father would have a conniption if he saw Benedict’s shoes on the furniture’s surface, but Anthony just grinned. “Whatever for? You are on holiday, it’s the week of Father’s anniversary, and you have a woman you are playing cat and mouse with—” His coy smirk caused Anthony to roll his eyes, “—you do know if you leave, this little thing you have with Kate can be set back? We don’t want that brother.”</p><p> </p><p>“How generous of you to be concerned about Kate and I.” Anthony crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against his desk. “But I assure you she and I are fine. Great even.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict’s brows shot up. “Fine? Great?” His head cocked to the side. “Those are meaning words, brother.”</p><p> </p><p>“Most words are.” Anthony deftly avoided the implication. He and Kate had an agreement, he’d like to stay true to his word. “But yes, I am leaving. Only for a day. Then I’ll be back here by tomorrow afternoon.” He patted his brother’s calf before pushing himself off his desk. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”</p><p> </p><p>His brother’s grey eyes narrowed. He and Eloise were frighteningly similar when they did that, unnerving Anthony how alike in both mannerisms and features he and his siblings could be, then not alike at all.</p><p> </p><p>“So you are leaving for business matters?” Benedict pressed.</p><p> </p><p>Rounding around his desk, Anthony resumed packing his briefcase. “Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re lying.”</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re lying.” Benedict sat up straight, feet firmly planted on the ground, all casualness gone. He eyed Anthony from head to toe. “You were trying to keep your answers short and face straight—something else is going on.”</p><p> </p><p>“Benedict—”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony,” his brother shot back in the same tone, “you can tell me anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought that went both ways, but apparently only when you like it.” The words flew out of Anthony mouth before he could stop himself. He immediately screwed his eyes shut, regretting his rash remark. “I didn’t mean—”</p><p> </p><p>“Is this about Ethan?” Benedict asked quietly. His hands clasped together, a dash of shame running away with him. “Because I didn’t tell you about him first?”</p><p> </p><p>Hands braced on the back of his desk chair and mouth snapped shut, for Anthony did not trust his words at the moment, he nodded.</p><p> </p><p>His brother at least looked sorry, but only the slightest. “I…I wanted to tell you. About him. About me. But…” An uncomfortable laugh bubbled from him. “But that’s when matters become real, don’t they? The moment they reach your ears, there is no hiding from the truth.”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t need to hide anything,” Anthony said, finding his kind and genuine words once more, “I’m your brother.</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Benedict peered up at him, reminding Anthony of the joyful and guileless young man he once was—could be again if he really tried. But Benedict was also getting older, like him. “I know that now. And I want to tell you everything again—like we use to. I’m sorry I was the one who…who kind of put a little distance between us.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was no better,” Anthony assured him. “After the…the Siena thing, I threw myself into work. I closed off. More than usual.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict’s lips twitched down, grim. “I noticed. We all noticed. You started sending more emails and text messages asking about us; more than the usual boatload. It’s like…” He exhaled, more of an apologetic wheeze. “…it’s like you went into older brother overdrive because everything in your life wasn’t great.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony didn’t have a clever or deflecting response. His brother was right. Benedict was always the more observant one, his words carrying more weight because of this.</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” Benedict continued, taking Anthony’s silence in stride, “she brings out a side of you I thought we’d never see again.”</p><p> </p><p>Neither needed to address who ‘she’ was in his remark.</p><p> </p><p>Thinking about Kate, Anthony could not contain his light smile. But he did not want this to be about him, or her, or anything of the likes—he wanted this to be about Benedict.</p><p> </p><p>“I like Ethan,” Anthony said resuming his packing, grabbing his preferred pen and day planner. “I didn’t get to tell you last night, but I do. Kind, smart, generous—”</p><p> </p><p>“More than you know,” Benedict quipped.</p><p> </p><p>“Did not need to know that,” Anthony shot back.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict chuckled, relaxing back into the armchair. “I know I just wanted to see your reaction.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony scowled and snapped shut his briefcase. He glanced back at his brother, Benedict for once relaxed and open, more than he had been for some time. Perhaps years.</p><p> </p><p>He was happy for him.</p><p> </p><p>He also felt, for the first time in a long time, they were seeing each other for the first time.</p><p> </p><p>Which is why Anthony believed that train of thought to be the reason for his lapse of barriers. “I have an appointment with a neurologist tomorrow morning. That’s why I’m going back into town this afternoon.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence pierced the room, Benedict’s grey eyes latching on to Anthony with startling sharpness.</p><p> </p><p>Uncomfortable with his stare, Anthony’s mouth ran away from him, words hurried explaining and reexplaining. “It’s probably nothing. Just a few tests. I have chronic headaches. Really it’s nothing. Mary—Mary, Kate’s mother—was the one who set up the appointment. It’s really nothing—”</p><p> </p><p>“You have chronic headaches?” Benedict asked, surprise.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nodded. “Yeah. Have for a long time—”</p><p> </p><p>“And you never said anything?”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugged. “Never saw the reason.”</p><p> </p><p>Disappointment was evident in his brother’s gaze. “I’m going with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What</em>?” Anthony sputtered. “What do you mean you are going with me—”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict stood up. “I am going with you on your day trip. I don’t want you to go alone.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t need—”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you just let me do this?” Benedict asked, almost pleading. “Please? Let me be the over-caring brother for once?”</p><p> </p><p>Knowing his brother wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer, Anthony huffed and slung his briefcase on to his shoulder. “I’m leaving in thirty minutes. With or without you.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict’s satisfied grin irked Anthony to no end.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Where the hell are you? It looks like you stepped into a modern fairytale library</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Slumping further into the large, burnt orange velvet armchair, Kate’s eyes darted around her surroundings. The Aubrey Hall’s library was by no means the level of Belle’s library in <em>Beauty &amp; the Beast</em>, but it was spacious yet cozy. The tall ceilings and windows allowed for the turn-of-the-century architecture to shine while the more mid-century and warm interior filled the room, creating a less daunting ambiance.</p><p> </p><p>She popped in and out of the library for the last few weeks to complete work, read, and sketch from time to time when she wasn’t further occupied. Which was not as much as she’d hope since she began her stay.</p><p> </p><p>Taking another glance at around the room, she supposed from an outside perspective the library would be outstanding, astonishing really. Pinterest worthy.</p><p> </p><p>Not that she didn’t think so as well, but a part of her had slowly grown accustom to the small grandeurs of Aubrey Hall, especially since in the eyes of the Bridgertons this was simply their second home.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, I told you,” Kate adjusted the sloppy bun on her head higher, “I’m staying at a friend’s house for part of holiday. This is their family library.”</p><p> </p><p>Her former student and new teaching-aid, Lucy Alfaro’s face came up close to the screen. “Is your friend a millionaire? Because I am positive that light fixture has real crystals attached.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate whipped around to the lamp on the sideboard a few feet away.</p><p> </p><p>Those crystals <em>did</em> look real.</p><p> </p><p>She turned back to her laptop screen, adjusting her reading glasses higher as she met the imploring gaze of Lucy. “His family is something like that…I suppose.” Scratching at her temple, Kate picked up her notepad from the coffee table, hoping to jump into lesson planning. “But enough about me—”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait—is what Whistledown tweeted <em>true</em>?” Lucy asked, jaw dropping. “Are you really at Aubrey Hall? With the Bridgertons?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate opened and closed her mouth. “Now why would you read Lady Whistledown? She has the opinions of a gnat—”</p><p> </p><p>“It is true!” Lucy gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Quickly she schooled her features, perhaps reading Kate’s less than thrilled expression. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s not every day you find out your former teacher and soon to be supervisor is connected to a very famous family.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly, I sort of forgot they are technically mid-level celebrity,” she confessed, the term feeling like sandpaper on her tongue. “They don’t act like it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” Lucy beamed. “I could never imagine you spending all your time with people who were snotty or full of themselves.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. Glad to know I kept my integrity while here.” Kate deadpanned, knowing the girl to not take her less than stellar attitude to heart. Lucinda Alfaro had been one of Kate’s favorite students, the girl transferring into her class during her fifth year after several years of traveling with her aunt and uncle. When she learned the girl wanted to stay in the area and pursue teaching, she helped her with obtaining a teaching assistant position as she attended university. The girl knew her well, perhaps too well, if Kate was to be completely honest. “Now, did you read the outline I sent—”</p><p> </p><p>The library door opened. Simon breezily entering the library with his briefcase and stack of papers in hand.</p><p> </p><p>He paused upon seeing Kate. “I did not realize anyone else would be here. There usually isn’t,” he said as what she assumed was a form of an apology.</p><p> </p><p>Kate glanced back to her laptop, Lucy keeping her mouth shut as she listened with rapt attention. It took all the strength Kate possessed to not roll her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine,” Kate assured him. “I got earbuds.” She pointed, unnecessarily to her ears, the cord trailing down to her laptop. “And I’m probably the one intruding. You usually do work down here, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Simon answered bluntly, “but I don’t mind the company. Can get a little too quiet down here, if you know what I mean.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate nodded. “I do.” Despite the warmth and energy the estate possessed, there was still an ancient eeriness surround it at the most oddest times.</p><p> </p><p>Pleased with their brief conversation, Simon ambled over to one of the oak tables and set up camp. “Carry on,” he urged, sitting down and opening his laptop. He popped on his own earbuds. “Pretend I’m not here.”</p><p> </p><p>Giving a thumbs up to him, Kate turned back to Lucy. “Where were we?”</p><p> </p><p>“Outline for the semester,” Lucy answered, her arm disappearing off screen as she grabbed a printed copy. “And yes, I did read it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Any questions in regard of your role? You’ll be helping with some grading of the everyday assignments, however I’ll still read their artist journals. I like doing those, really lets me get to know the students, ya know?” Kate chuckled lightly, eyes scanning the PDF of the outline herself. “As for the lectures—”</p><p> </p><p>The library door opened again.</p><p> </p><p>Looking up from her laptop, Kate found Phillip marching into the room, haggard. With an overstuffed backpack slug over his shoulder and cup of coffee in his hand, he looked like the personification of over-exhausted student. However in this case he also had ‘over-exhausted guardian’ tacked on to his title as well.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t until he sat down at the table opposite Simon did he realize there were other people in the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” he blinked, head slowly turning from Simon’s unamused stare to Kate’s pleasant, if not slightly annoyed smile, “uh, hello. Didn’t think anyone was down here. Eloise mentioned no one really occupied the library. She’s having a ‘bonding day’ with the twins,” his face cracked into panicked-pain at his, as though expecting the worst from the situation, “so I thought I’d try to get work done. Far away from them.”</p><p> </p><p>“No need to explain yourself,” Simon told him lightly, barely looking up from his work. “You are merely doing what we are all trying to do with our Bridgerton free day.”</p><p> </p><p>“I already sat down,” Phillip muttered. “I’m not moving.”</p><p> </p><p>“The more the merrier then,” Kate said with a shrug. Eyes set on Simon, her brows furrowed. “Where is Daphne?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” He lifted his gaze from his work.</p><p> </p><p>“Daphne?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, she and Violet decided to go shopping.” Scratching at his jaw, he checked his watch. “They left less than a half hour ago. They’ll be gone all day. I’m positive of this. Trust me.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t sound too happy to be without his wife, more often than not in her company. Yet Simon pressed on to his work, effectively ending the conversation.</p><p> </p><p>Once again Kate turned back to Lucy. “As I was saying, lectures. We’ll have them Monday and Wednesdays, while Tuesdays and Thursdays are work days—”</p><p> </p><p>Upon hearing the library door open for the third time, Kate clamped her lips together to refrain a scream.</p><p> </p><p>Thank god she did because the sweetest person residing at Aubrey Hall at the moment was the culprit of her aggravation.</p><p> </p><p>Unlike the other two men, or even herself, Ethan Beckett <em>crept</em> into the room. There was no dominance asserted, in fact, the opposite. Almost like he wanted to be there and disappear in the same instance as he came further into the library.</p><p> </p><p>He too had a laptop and briefcase in his possession.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me guess?” Simon began. “You are here to get work done because unlike the Bridgertons—” he turned to the rest of the room, “—whom for the record I love and adore as they are my family, and furthermore I would like to preamble I do not include Anthony in this statement—” his head lulled back to Ethan, knowingly, “—don’t have real jobs.”</p><p> </p><p>Ethan nodded. “Yup. That’s a way to put it. Have some forms to send out before the end of the day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Take a seat. You are amongst friends,” Simon ordered before resuming his work.</p><p> </p><p>Ethan sat down in the dark green settee across from her, giving a shy smile. God, how could she be annoyed with that sweet face?</p><p> </p><p>He opened his powder blue laptop and immediately flew into work, wasting no time.</p><p> </p><p>Giving him a small smile in greeting back, Kate resumed her meeting with Lucy. “Tuesdays and Thursdays are work days. When it comes to work days, these can be extended depending on the project since not everyone will work at the same pace—”</p><p> </p><p>For what felt like the hundredth time, the library door opened.</p><p> </p><p>This time Kate could barely contain her ire. “Oh my god,” she muttered to the heavens. She dropped her face into her hands, huffing. “I’ll never get through this meeting.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh I didn’t realize there’d be others here,” Michael said in leu of greeting. “Franny said no one comes down here so I thought—”</p><p> </p><p>“You could get some work done?” Simon finished, eyebrows raised. “Apparently you and everyone else had the same idea.”</p><p> </p><p>Michael cleared his throat, looking awkward for a moment before his casualness returned in ten-fold. “I wanted to give the love birds some privacy and thought perhaps some editing would be a good use of my time since it seemed everyone else went MIA.” He scanned the room, snorting. “But now I see this is the place to be! We got the entire Bridgerton-Partners gang here, except for John, of course.”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate and Anthony are technically not dating,” Phillip chimed in, not once looking away from his writing.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s head snapped to him, her messy bun flopping to the side of her head. “And how would <em>you</em> know that?”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip actually turned to her, a half-chuckle escaping him. “Have you <em>met</em> Eloise? She does not know how to shut up. She talks about anything and everything, siblings and their shenanigans included. Extensively.”</p><p> </p><p>“You and her weren’t speaking for weeks,” Ethan reminded him and everyone else, apparently also aware of the Bridgerton drama despite his absence. “I imagine she talked your ear off once all was forgiven.</p><p> </p><p>The scholar sagged against the table. “You have no fucking idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anyways, Anthony and Kate could have fooled me,” Michael said pointedly, eyebrows dancing at Kate. He moseyed over to seating area by the fireplace, flopping down in the deep blue velvet barrel armchair catty-corner of settee. He winked at Kate. “Isn’t that right Katherine?”</p><p> </p><p>She frowned.</p><p> </p><p>Lucy’s giggles filled her ears. “You know Kate…” the girl began, struggling to contain her intrigue and laughter, “you were very thorough in your emails about my duties and your plans for the year.”</p><p> </p><p>Sitting more squarely in front of her laptop, Kate turned all her attention back to her teaching assistant, ignoring the other men’s curious gazes. “Well, this isn’t my first rodeo. However this one is yours and I wanted to make sure to give you all the advice I can and provide any clarity.”</p><p> </p><p>“You provided plenty of clarity,” Lucy assured her. “Seven emails worth of clarity.”</p><p> </p><p>“So there isn’t—”</p><p> </p><p>“No Kate,” the girl interjected before she could speak any further, “I have no concerns or questions. I am all good. We can meet back up a couple of weeks before school resumes, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate blinked, not entirely pleased with this turn of events but not willing to argue Lucy or keep her longer than necessary. “Yeah, I suppose…yeah.” She nodded, lips pursed. “I guess we are done here. Text me, email me, call me—whatever—if you have any questions—”</p><p> </p><p>“Like I said I am fine,” Lucy said, more giggles spilling from her. “You enjoy the rest of your holiday and tell me everything when you get back, okay? And nab that Bridgerton you are technically not dating while you are at it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, Lucy—”</p><p> </p><p>The video call ended.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn.” Pulling out her earbuds, Kate huffed. “So much for getting work done.”</p><p> </p><p>“Colleague left you hanging?” Ethan asked, bright green eyes darting to her then back down to his laptop.</p><p> </p><p>“Something like that.” Kate closed her tabs and shut her laptop closed. “Teaching assistant. New teaching assistant. She ended the call early. I think she finds my emails annoying.”</p><p> </p><p>From behind his laptop, Simon snorted. “How often do you email her?”</p><p> </p><p>“Once a week. Sometimes twice depending on the situation.”</p><p> </p><p>A grin formed on his face, he looking over at her with stunned amusement. “And this is not during the school year?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m like her mentor—almost a surrogate sister if you will. It’s my duty to check in on her, update her on changes to my lesson plans, and whatnot. I don’t see the problem with being thorough.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon leaned back in his chair, head titled to ceiling in complete awe. “My god, there really <em>is</em> someone out there for everyone.”</p><p> </p><p>For some reason this caused the rest of the room to combust into laughter.</p><p> </p><p>Kate blinked, head whipping from one man to the next. “What is so funny? I like to keep tabs on people I care about. Emails are the fastest and easiest form of communication without being too overbearing.”</p><p> </p><p>The laughter came harder after this, Simon near wheezing.</p><p> </p><p>Phillip was first to calm down. “You don’t know?”</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head. “No. Should I?”</p><p> </p><p>Finally, catching his breath, Simon waved the others off. “I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her.” He turned his chair to face Kate, giving his best apologetic face, yet the humor in his eyes ruined any attempt humility. “You see, in this family, Anthony is notoriously known to be overbearing at times—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m aware,” Kate told him, rolling her eyes. This was not news to her. This would not even been newsworthy to Lady Whistledown of all people. Everyone and their mother knew Anthony was protective of his siblings.</p><p> </p><p>A knowing grin consumed Simon. “Of course you do. But I believe you are not aware of the extent.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Extent</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony sends emails,” Simon said, struggling to maintain his composure, “to the entire family.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay and?”</p><p> </p><p>“He send them so much,” Simon continued, “sometimes three to five times a week, <em>so insistent,</em> the majority of the family has his emails marked and sent to their spam folders.”</p><p> </p><p>Her brows furrowed, realization donning on her. “I’m not like that!”</p><p> </p><p>“It sounds like you are,” Ethan interjected. “Even I know about Anthony’s infamous emails.”</p><p> </p><p>“The entire family complains about it,” Michael added. “Franny curses every single time one comes in bypassing spam.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not like Anthony!” Kate declared, a bit more huffy than she expected. Sure, she sent a good amount of emails, but it was normal amount. Not like him. Even though she hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, Anthony did send a lot. He forwarded her information regarding the holiday at Aubrey Hall—grocery requests, directions, emergency contacts, etcetera. Normal information and inquires. “I’m not like that!”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure you’re not,” Michael remarked, his teasing grin grating her nerves.</p><p> </p><p>Deciding to not let them get the best of her, Kate leaned back in her chair and picked up a book she brought along with her. “I’d rather be thorough then let anything slip through the cracks,” she muttered.</p><p> </p><p>“Spoken like a true micro-manager,” Michael mused.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you have photos to edit?” Kate reminded him, staring hard at the pages of her novel.</p><p> </p><p>He held his hand up defensively. “Yes. And no. No projects right now, just some work I am uploading to my website.”</p><p> </p><p>Ethan leaned over the side of the settee, catching a glimpse of Michael’s screen. “Oh those are nice. I’m no curator, but I am sure you can snag a gallery showing if you build more of a name for yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>Michael faced Ethan, seemingly always ready for a conversation. “You know what, Francesca says the same thing—”</p><p> </p><p>Simon’s laptop snapped shut. “Alright, none of us are going to get any work done being here together.” He stood up, packing away his belongings. “Who wants to go to the pub?”</p><p> </p><p>Nearly everyone stood up from their spots at this suggestion, more than ready to leave their work and Aubrey Hall behind in favor for a drink. Kate found herself packed the fastest and half a step behind Simon before she could fully comprehend what had happened.</p><p> </p><p>“You,” Simon pointed to Michael, “Mr. Chit-Chat—you’re designated driver.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Michael uttered, the slowest to follow the pack. “No—”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re the youngest,” Simon swiftly countered. “Kate is older by three months.”</p><p> </p><p>Michael blinked. “How do you know that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because—”</p><p> </p><p>“Because his wife occasionally sends horoscopes to the entire family,” Phillip answered. When the other four stared at him, he shrugged, groaning a bit. “Eloise <em>talks</em>. I listen. Even if I want her to shut up. I know <em>so</em> much useless information because of her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hence designated driver,” Simon finished bypassing the man for the exit. “Come along, we have to head out before any lingering Bridgerton catches us!”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t understand why you don’t just have your assistant pick up your mail.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony shoved another stack of envelopes into Benedict’s arms. He shut and locked his mail box and led the way to the stairs. “Because I like to do it. I don’t see the point of having my assistant come in during their time off to check my mail.”</p><p> </p><p>His brother had been like this for most of the drive back into town. Question after question, attempting to be reacquainted with Anthony. Not that there was any reacquainting to be done persay, but there was a new vigor to Benedict. Like he was making up for lost time; the time they spent the last two years more apart than together. In fact, he could not recall the last time they’d gone out and done anything just the two of them. So with this in mind…Anthony didn’t have the heart to shut him up, so he let his brother go on. And on. And on.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict shook his head. “You have outlets of assistance at your disposal yet you do everything yourself.” They rounded the first flight of stairs, climbing up the next. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, you have too much on your plate?”</p><p> </p><p>“Occasionally.”</p><p> </p><p>“And the thought of asking for help—<em>what</em>? Makes you queasy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Something like that.”</p><p> </p><p>As they came up to the fifth floor, Anthony took a left down the corridor, Benedict only half a step behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“You do know even Father had assistants and aids and people to help him? Hell, he wasn’t even running the business by himself.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was aware of all of this, but it did not stop him from acting otherwise. “I know, but I have a certain way of doing things. Believe it or not, I like doing the mundane tasks,” he muttered, coming up to his flat. Digging into his pocket, he fished out his keys.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that why you like walking Newton?”</p><p> </p><p>For the first time since they left Aubrey Hall Benedict’s question caused Anthony to pause.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I suppose,” he shoved his key into the lock, “amongst other reasons.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict rolled his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>With his shoulder, Anthony pushed open the door—</p><p> </p><p>Only to be met with girlish yelps and screams.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ahh</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Shit</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes immediately caught an eye full of his brother’s—the missing in action brother—bare back and behind.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony screwed his eyes shut, saving himself, Colin, and Penelope from further embarrassment. He spun around, part of his back to them.</p><p> </p><p>“Colin!” Anthony seethed towards the door</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t you knock?” He heard his brother scrambled around, no doubt to cover himself and his partner’s very naked bodies.</p><p> </p><p>“Why the bloody hell would I need to knock!” Anthony bellowed, fuming towards the coat rack in substitution of Colin. “<em>It’s my own damn flat!”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Benedict’s snickers from the other side of the ajar door did not help matters.</p><p> </p><p>“You should have known I’d be here!” Colin shouted back. “I left Aubrey Hall!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh <em>I’m sorry</em>!” Anthony was the furthest thing from ‘sorry’—he wanted to kill the idiot.  “I assumed you’d be at Pen’s considering Daphne is telling everyone up the whazoo how she gave you love advice to win her over!”</p><p> </p><p>“Daphne needs to learn to shut up!” Colin whined.</p><p> </p><p>“I very well cannot tell her that now that she is pregnant!” Anthony shot back over his shoulder. “Her hormones are all over the place! She’d kill anyone who defies her!”</p><p> </p><p>“That is crude misrepresentation of pregnancy!” Benedict chimed in safely from the other side of the door.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony chose to ignore him, more concerned with Colin and Pen, and by god hoping they hadn’t performed certain acts on every surface of his flat. He squeezed his eyes shut once more, disturbed by the thought.</p><p> </p><p>He just wanted to go back to his flat and relax for the evening after being stuck in a car with Benedict for two and a half hours. All he wanted was to sleep, go to his appointment in the morning, then head back to Aubrey Hall. This little detour of his holiday was meant to be a blip. A mini, miniscule blip on the broad spectrum of July holiday; unfortunately his brothers were making due diligence this was not the case.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, the sound of shoes against hardwood eased off some of the tension, Anthony opening his eyes once more. Murmurs of promises to meet back up later at her place flitted through the flat, followed by another kiss.</p><p> </p><p>Pen brushed by, fully dressed and her cheeks tinged bright red. “Hi Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hello Pen,” he greeted back, an aggravated, taut grin on his lips. “How are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Great,” she squeaked, before edging out the door. “Hi Benedict.”</p><p> </p><p>“Always a pleasure, Penelope,” came his brother’s charming reply. It wasn’t until she was gone, did Benedict pop into the flat. “Oh my god,” he wheezed, shutting the door behind him. “Anthony walking in on you and Pen has got to be the highlight of this holiday!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony bristled. “Really? Not winning Field Day? Or I don’t know, introducing your <em>boyfriend</em> to the family?” He spun around to Colin, pinning him in place with his stare. “Don’t think I forgot you missed that!”</p><p> </p><p>“I was chasing the love of my life!” Colin admonished. He looked beyond disheveled, though proud of it. His trousers were barely buttoned right and his shirt inside out. “I was more than a little busy! Apologies brothers,” he grumbled marching into the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict was quick to follow after him, pushing past Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>“Pen’s the love of your life now?” Benedict asked, dropping the mail and his belongings on the counter as he hurried over to Colin. The younger man busied himself with getting a glass of water, pointedly ignoring Benedict. “I could have sworn just a couple of weeks ago you were in the ‘I really like her, a lot’ stage of this romance.”</p><p> </p><p>“He was also sleeping with her on the side if you weren’t aware of that,” Anthony added, picking up his thrown mail. He made effort to drop the envelopes in their proper basket in the living room console table.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict whirled back to Colin. “You conveniently left that out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t want your judgement,” Colin shot back, shrugging once. “Not that it matters. Pen and I are great now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good for you.” Benedict clapped his back, only to clench harder and pull his brother right into his side, roughly. “But I am still upset you weren’t there when I introduced Ethan.”</p><p> </p><p>“Come on.” Colin knocked his arm off his shoulder. “If I’d known I would have figured out a way to be two places at once.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bold of you to assume you could handle being two places at once,” Anthony called out, cleaning up around the living room. His nose scrunched when he found one of Colin’s socks. Without further debate, he decided to leave the cleaning to his younger brother. He came back to the dining area, both his brothers making themselves at home in his flat. Benedict making them drinks while Colin dug through the pantry and fridge for food.</p><p> </p><p>They hadn’t been together like this, the three of them, in years.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony suddenly felt his age.</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you two even here?” Colin sniffed a block of provolone cheese. He took a bite straight from the block and shut the fridge. “Aren’t you supposed to be parading around a boyfriend,” he told Benedict, then nodded to Anthony, “and you wooing and canoodling with Kate? Or pretending to not woo her? I don’t understand you two’s weird mating practices.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict laughed at this, passing off a scotch to Colin who accepted the drink greedily.</p><p> </p><p>However neither Benedict nor Anthony answered Colin’s question.</p><p> </p><p>And unfortunately, he noticed this.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” he asked, eyes darting between the two. “Something had to have happened if you came all the way back to town and I doubt it was to pick up your mail.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict tossed back his drink, cringing before serving himself another.</p><p> </p><p>Bracing his hands on the back of the head dining chair, Anthony leaned forward, willing himself to tell his brother the truth. “I…have an appointment with a neurologist in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>All teasing in Colin’s eyes vanished.</p><p> </p><p>Instead he looked small, almost like a boy. An incredible feat considering Colin's babyface.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hated he caused this. So he’d try to fix this. “It’s nothing to worry about. They’re just going to do a few tests, run some scans and they’ll get back to me next week with the results.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Colin uttered, sounding hollow. “Why do you need to go to a neurologist?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have chronic headaches. I’ve had them forever. They last a lot longer than they should and it was slight cause of concern. Especially after the concussion.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you just thought…” Colin shook his head, setting both his drink and cheese down. “You just thought to take care of this matter now. Even though it’s been bothering you for years. And you never thought to tell any of us.”</p><p> </p><p>Each question was a statement. Sharp and hurt, but most of all confused.</p><p> </p><p>A shaky exhaled ran through Anthony, his grip on the chair tightening. “Like I said, it is nothing to worry about. I don’t need to be worried about—”</p><p> </p><p>“When are you going to get we worry about you too?” Colin cut in.</p><p> </p><p>Biting his lips together, Anthony shrugged. He did not know how to respond to all this concern. Usually he’d be able to logic away problems and comfort his siblings, but this….this he did not know how to do because it was about <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And while he’d never admit it…Anthony was terrified.</p><p> </p><p>His anxieties and imaginations got the better of him, and he was <em>terrified</em>. Never before had he been overly concerned for his health—if he died, then he’d be fulfilling his fate as a male Bridgerton. But now…but now he did not like to dwell on such matters.</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed, releasing the chair. “I don’t know,” he said. “All I know is I am supposed to care for all of you—”</p><p> </p><p>“My god, Anthony,” Benedict bemoaned,  “cut it out with the duties and the responsibility bullshit. We get it. <em>You care</em>. But remember what I said? Let us be the caring brothers for once. Let us care about you.”</p><p> </p><p>Upon seeing the stubborn frowns on his brothers’ faces, for once Anthony knew it best to not argue. His brothers wanted to be there for him, to care for him, who was he to deny them after all this time.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he breathed, “okay. I’ll…let you care away.”</p><p> </p><p>“He looks like he broke a bone,” Benedict muttered. He picked up his drink and ambled over to Anthony. “Don’t think of this as a constraint or a burden. This is a <em>release</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure I like releasing,” he muttered.</p><p> </p><p>Colin came to his other side, handing him a drink. “Then learn.”</p><p> </p><p>They clinked their glasses together.</p><p> </p><p>The other two drank their scotch while Anthony simply stared at the tumbler in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” he deadpanned, holding his drink up aloft. “I can’t drink this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh shit—right.” Colin snatched the drink back from him. “More for me then.”</p><p> </p><p>“You two are really <em>great</em> at this whole caring thing,” Anthony told them, earning annoyed shouts and grumbles from both Benedict and Colin.</p><p>Fondly he watched the two argue over who got his drink, happy for once to be caught in the middle of their needless and petty spats. It felt like old times.</p><p> </p><p>He missed these moments.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Daphne just finished putting away her newest garments, a lovely periwinkle dress for her mother’s party and another few selection of dresses she tucked away in the back for Kate, when her bedroom door flung open.</p><p> </p><p>“I knew children were scoundrels, but I did not realize they were capable of demonic tendencies!” Her sister unceremoniously dropped face first into the bed. Arms stretched out, she pulled at the duvet and cocooned herself with frightening speed. “I want to disappear into oblivion and never do anything worth anything again!” she bemoaned, cries muffled from the layers of fabric over her head.</p><p> </p><p>“Good evening to you too.” Daphne shut her wardrobe before facing her lump of a sister. “I imagine your afternoon with the twins went well?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Why do you mock me</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne rolled her eyes. Kicking off her flats, she sat down on the edge of the bed. With all her might she hampered down her smiles and giggles at her sister’s apparent demise. “It’s not mocking if the question is genuine.”</p><p> </p><p>Throwing the duvet off her face, Eloise’s flushed face met hers. “They tripped me! When we went on our hike, they tripped me! And I fell into the lake!”</p><p> </p><p>Nose wrinkling, Daphne sniffed Eloise. “You don’t smell like lake water.”</p><p> </p><p>“I took a shower you nitwit!” Indeed Eloise’s chestnut hair was a little damp from her aforementioned shower. Huffing, her sister looked up at her, agonized. “Daphne…they don’t like me. At all. And I don’t understand why.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise was rarely defeated or daunted in the face of adversary. Yet somehow two children no older than ten were causing her spiral into grievous self-pity.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think they don’t like you,” Daphne countered. Scooting closer to Eloise, she stared down at her, forcing her sister to engage. “I think it’s just a lot for them right now and you’re an easy target.”</p><p> </p><p>Her sister blew a raspberry. “An easy target?”</p><p> </p><p>“You are,” Daphne poked her. “You are provoked so easily. By any little thing, to a child it’s funny because you react like a child.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise’s scowl deepened. “I came here for you to make me feel better, not to tell me all the ways I am awful.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne snatched back the duvet from Eloise, her sister yelping. “Oh please! I did not say you were awful! In fact, if you let me finish talking instead of jumping to conclusions, you being so over-the-top and ridiculous could be the very thing that will help you!”</p><p> </p><p>Turning on her side, Eloise propped her head up, eyeing Daphne warily. “What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean…” Daphne sighed, shrugging sloppily, “…be yourself. Stop trying to be the perfect babysitter or guardian and hang out with them. Ask them what they want to do. Children are people too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you not hear the part where they are demonic? Does that sound people-like to you?”</p><p> </p><p>“It sounds like children being children.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise huffed, sitting back up. “You don’t get it. You’ve always wanted kids, have always been great with kids, and you literally have one forming inside you right now.” She straightened the duvet, not back to it’s former glory, but enough to look presentable. Her fingers gently traced the floral embroidery on the edge. “I never wanted that. I never wanted love, or a man.” She scoffed into broken, raspy chuckles. “I never wanted anything society deemed a woman should want. Yet here I am,” she waved abstractly to the room, “trying to be some form of mother dearest. Because I fell in love with a stupid botanist.” She picked at her bare nails, frowning at them. “I don’t want to change, Daphne. I’m afraid all this change in my life is going to change me.”</p><p> </p><p>Biting her lips together, Daphne stood up from the bed. “Change happens, Eloise. It’s inevitable.” She went to her vanity, picking up her brush and few hair ties. “But the fact you are aware this is happening,” she sat back down beside Eloise, gently urging her to turn, “means you eons ahead of the rest of us. It means you can change, but also remember to keep the parts of you that make you, you.” With ease she brought the comb through Eloise’s hair, followed by several methodical strokes. From the scalp to the end of her shoulder less than shoulder length locks. Her sister relax at the repeated motion, this an old practice since they were young girls. “If it’s any consolation, I think there are parts of you that will never change, no matter how hard life decides to rain down upon you.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise shifted, meeting Daphne’s gaze. “You’re going to be the best mum. I hope you know that.”</p><p> </p><p>A pang pinched behind Daphne’s eyes, the sudden wave of tears pressing upon her. “I…that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I need to say nice things more often.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p> </p><p>The sisters giggled together.</p><p> </p><p>A light knock sounded against the doorframe. “Hate to break up the moment, but does anyone know where the rest of the house has gone?”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca entered the room with little invitation, joining her sisters on the bed. She was already dressed for the evening, sweatpants and oversized t-shirt and wool socks. She, liked the rest of the house, had been out during the day, taking a day trip with John into one of the nearby villages.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise raised an eyebrow. “Did you not get the text message?”</p><p> </p><p>“What text message?” Francesca asked pulling her legs to her chest. “I haven’t been on my phone all day.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne and Eloise shared a humorous look. Oh, their poor sister had no idea what happened to the rest of the world when John was around.</p><p> </p><p>“The Non-Bridgertons,” Daphne began, recalling how Simon’s text message in the group chat was phrased, “decided to go on a bonding excursion this afternoon at the pub.”</p><p> </p><p>Their younger sister’s face scrunched. “All of them?”</p><p> </p><p>“Simon, Ethan, Phillip, Michael, and Kate,” Daphne listed off. “All up and left together this afternoon if Hyacinth’s account is anything to go by.”</p><p> </p><p>“That sounds like trouble,” Francesca remarked.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, it absolutely is,” Eloise crowed, “I cannot wait for them to come back sloshed,” she sputtered into giggles, “and then the hangover in the morning! Great fun for us.”</p><p> </p><p>“We are not going to torment them,” Daphne scolded, offended for their friends and siblings significant others. “And they are all fully grown adults. I doubt they will drink irresponsibly.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Another round!” Phillip ordered, slamming down the shot glass on the counter. “More than another round. Another six, please!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyes widened, she taking a sip of her wine. She’d only know Phillip for a few days, her opinions on him short and few, but she had never seen someone so…desperate and loose. At least not to his quick extent. They’d only been at the near-empty pub for a half-hour. Hell, she was still working on her first drink.</p><p> </p><p>Beside her Simon laughed into his whiskey. “I think this is the first time he’s gone out since he got the twins.”</p><p> </p><p>“Watching him is making me reconsider if I want children,” Kate murmured over her glass.</p><p> </p><p>Phillip knocked back half the shots in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Let Lord have mercy on him in the morning,” she muttered.</p><p> </p><p>Simon nodded. “He’s been under a lot of stress. Eloise told Daphne as much. He needs this.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate smiled at the mention of Daphne. “You really love your wife,” she complimented, “I have never met a man who adores their wife as much as you do.”</p><p> </p><p>“When you marry your best friend, you cannot help but adore them,” Simon said simply, not hiding his love for Daphne even an ounce. “She’s more than anything I could have imagined in a partner and everything I need at once.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s sweet. And inspiring.”</p><p> </p><p>“She finds it annoying when I lay it on to thick, as she likes to say,” Simon said, setting down his drink.  “But if I don’t, who else will? She’s <em>my</em> wife after all.”</p><p> </p><p>“You have every right to lay it on thick, as much as you like,” Kate agreed wholeheartedly.</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly.” Simon nodded. “You understand.”</p><p> </p><p>From the makeshift stage before them, the familiar tune of ‘Islands in the Stream’ blared from the speakers. Michael and Ethan stood side by side in front of the karaoke monitor, a microphone shared between the two. Counting down together, the two sang horribly off-key—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Baby, when I met you there was peace unknown</em>
</p><p>
  <em><br/>
I set out to get you with a fine tooth comb…”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Wincing, Simon turned away from the stage and back to Kate. “I regret selecting this pub. I had no idea there would be karaoke.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s nose wrinkled with Michael attempted a Dolly Parton high-note. “On the plus side it seems like we’re the only ones here, so I guess we won’t have to suffer through any other unmentionable acts.” The two men on stage swayed in time to the song, arms thrown around each other. “Just theirs.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Islands in the stream</em></p><p>
  <em>That is what we are</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No one in-between</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How can we be wrong</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sail away with me to another world…”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>As Ethan and Michael sang their hearts out to each other, Kate and Simon pretend they didn’t exist and moved from the bar to one of the booths.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Kate began, taking a seat across from Simon, “you’ve know the Bridgertons a long time, even prior to marrying Daphne.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve known them almost all my life,” he said, setting down his drink.</p><p> </p><p>“So not to sound like a complete ignorant asshole,” she trailed off, Simon raising an eyebrow at her rather colorful preamble, “are they really…” she dropped her voice lower, eyeing her surroundings carefully, “…billionaires?”</p><p> </p><p>He opened and closed his mouth for a moment, before a disbelieving grin spread across his face. “You’ve been living in a practical ancestral mansion for the last two to three weeks and you are now asking if the family you are staying with are <em>billionaires</em>?” He titled his head, eyes squinting. “Couldn’t you google that?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate rolled her eyes. “I did. But I have a hard time believing it.” She frowned down into her merlot. “I just want to understand all of them, their business, and their odd celebrity better, you know what I mean?”</p><p> </p><p>He hummed. “I do.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m asking you because you would give me a real and thorough answer since you are married to one and are—well, were—Bridgerton Media Publications legal consultant.”</p><p> </p><p>“One would say I’m Anthony’s personal lawyer,” Simon jested lightly. Or at least she thought he did; with him one can never be too sure. Twiddling with his empty tumbler, he nodded to the barkeep for another. “To answer your question—yes and no.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes and no?” she asked, befuddled by the answer.</p><p> </p><p>“Technically,” he drawled out, tumbler twisting left then right, “if we are going based off of assets and potential net worth, they are. Each sibling has an inheritance worth more than a pretty penny.”</p><p> </p><p>“But? I’m sensing a ‘but’ here?” Kate pressed.</p><p> </p><p>“But…” Simon met her gaze levelly, “they have the smallest share in Bridgerton Media Publications.”</p><p> </p><p>Her brows furrowed. “Their surname is in the name of the business. Their family is like the face of the business. When you think Bridgerton you think of the company and the family connected to it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he nodded, “that is true. There are eight of them, named from A to H. It causes natural public intrigue; the articles on the family write themselves. But you are forgetting this business has been around for a good century or two. And with each passing generation so much of the company’s shareholders are passed down,” Simon explained, vague enough for her to understand. “If you are looking for the <em>real</em> billionaire Bridgertons, it’s their Aunt Billie and Georgie.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who?” Kate uttered.</p><p> </p><p>“Billie Bridgerton-Rokseby and Georgie Bridgerton-Rokseby,” he said plainly. Another scotch was placed before him, as well as another glass of wine before her. He took a grand sip and sat up right. “I’ll give you the abridged Bridgerton and Rokseby history lesson.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Kate mirror his upright and serious stance, “hit me.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Bridgerton and Rokseby have been family friends and business partners for a near century; they built the company together. The Bridgertons were more of the face, handling the ins and outs of the company while the Rokseby’s were more behind the finance of the endeavor. But main point stands—they are both shareholders, on the board, and a Bridgerton has <em>always</em> ran the company.” Kate made note to remember this, Simon speeding along in his storytelling, not one to beat around the bush. “You’d think at least over the years at least one of the children of both sides would marry each other, but that is not the case.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Glad you asked,” he chuckled, leaning back in his seat and reaching for his scotch again, “both Bridgertons and Roksebys families were notoriously known to have male offspring. Just one or two. So the business was kept tight in the hold of few descendants but spread out evenly between Bridgertons and Roksebys. That is until Billie and Georgie are born, the first female Bridgertons in forever. Then there is Poppy, their cousin, also a Bridgerton, born. All of three them marry a Rokseby brother.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyes widened, piecing this together without further explanation. “So…all three have a share in the company, as well as their husbands.”</p><p> </p><p>“Precisely,” Simon took a long sip of his drink. “Sure there are a few cousins here and there. And Edward, the other Rokseby brother who also owns part of the company. The company is essentially in their hands.”</p><p> </p><p>“And Anthony runs it, despite having almost no ownership.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon titled his head side to side. “Yeah, to put in lame-man’s terms. His Aunt Billie helped a bit when Edmund was CEO, the two sharing the title. And then she was there to help Anthony transition into the role over time, but she hasn’t been involved with the actual running of the company besides her shareholder and chairman positions in over a decade.” Clearing his throat, he glanced at the stage, both Michael and Ethan giving a sour rendition of Spice Girl’s ‘Wannabe.’ “However, upon realizing his daughters and the Rokseby’s would have control of almost the entire company, Grandfather Bridgerton had some legal documents worked up as well as his will. One of them was a stipulation a Bridgerton, by name and birth, be running Bridgerton Media Publications, as well as leaving all his ancestral assets to Edmund, his sole male heir at the time. He knew his daughters would be fine, and the relationships between the siblings had never been strained, even after these changes.” He then sighed, leaving the remains of his drink untouched. “But see, he wrote this after Edmund’s brother died and prior to Anthony’s birth. He left the diving up of his grandchildren’s shares and claims to his children.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So tell me what you want, what you really, really want…”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kate frowned. “I am assuming Anthony has a share,” Simon nodded in confirmation, “do the other siblings?”</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone of age and Anthony controls Hyacinth’s until she’s eighteen, and that's only a year off,” Simon answered. “Edmund believed in equality when it came to his children. But they all abstain from voting to level the playing field for Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>“Has there ever been problems in regards to shareholding voting and chairman business?” Kate wasn’t going to pretend she understood how these positions and business matters worked, but she wanted to know where Anthony and the family stood with the company, if not to only be aware.</p><p> </p><p>“None,” Simon shook his head. “Besides the fact Anthony is the only one on both sides of the family who seems to have any interest or obligation in working in the company. None of the Bridgerton-Rokseby children care for it. Nice people, but they are very much aristocratic and socialites. They have their hobbies, interests, and careers and none of them involve Bridgerton Media Publications.” He shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>“But they can live off the money of it?” Kate asked before taking big sip of her wine.</p><p> </p><p>“Yup,” he popped out, “but the same can be said of the Bridgerton siblings. Like I said, I love them, but they breeze by a little in life in regards to finances.”</p><p> </p><p>“Interesting,” Kate hummed into her glass, “interesting.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not surprised you asked,” Simon suddenly said. “Most potential partners like to know about the finances of their significant others.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate choked on her wine. “<em>I beg your pardon</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate,” he said, eyes sliding over to her playfully, “I am no idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Never thought you were,” she shot back.</p><p> </p><p>“You and Anthony are seeing each other, and if not, you are close to it.” He lifted his tumbler, eyeing the contents pensively before taking another sip. “I apologize for being blunt, but you are <em>it</em> for him.”</p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t too sure she liked how he phrased the term ‘it.’</p><p> </p><p>Taking her stillness and silence in stride, Simon smirked. “I don’t mean to scare you or make you doubt in any way, I am simply speaking as an observer, brother-in-law, and life-long friend. If Anthony marries, it’ll be you. If he does not marry you, he will marry no one.”</p><p> </p><p>All her wine was gone and this disappointed Kate. “Real quick to jump into marriage right there. He and I…” She huffed, her glared set on her empty wine glass; surely Anthony wouldn’t mind if she spilled the beans to Simon? “It’s still new. I’ve only known him for a couple of weeks. I haven’t even slept with him!” She scoffed, avoiding Simon’s surprised glance. “And now you are mentioning marriage, and Hyacinth is going off about how people can fall in love in less than a week, and the family dotting on me like…like I belong… it’s <em>a lot.</em>” She pushed aside her empty glass and reached for Simon’s snatching it before he could even utter a word and downed the remaining contents. “<em>Shit</em>,” she breathed, closing her eyes—god, this is why she didn’t bother with whiskey. “That burns.”</p><p> </p><p>Across from her, Simon reached over and gently patted her forearm.</p><p> </p><p>“As for Hyacinth, she is a devil and is always looking for a rise from anyone.” Simon carefully moved the empty glasses away from her. “Take it from me, ignore her. As for everyone else,” pity shined in his eyes, “take it in stride. Which you have been doing, superbly. They’re excited. Excited for him. The last woman he had any romantic feelings for was Siena—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Kate droned.</p><p> </p><p>“You know about Siena?” Simon leaned back, arms crossed. “I’m surprised. Bridgertons usually keep that particular incident under lock and key. Who told you?”</p><p> </p><p>“He did,” Kate answered, finding herself mirroring Simon’s pose once more. “Anthony told me everything.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon softened, blinking with new found understanding. “Good. I’m glad it was him who told you. I don’t think any of us would have wanted you to learn about her in any other way.”</p><p> </p><p>His mention of the cellist caused Kate to paused. As far as she knew, none of the family met Siena, but all knew of her. Simon, on the other hand, spoke with more familiarity. Like he knew exactly the type of woman and pain Anthony endured from Siena.</p><p> </p><p>As she was about to ask him further on the woman, Michael and Ethan came over, more drinks in hand. “Hello, hello, hello my friends!” Michael crowed in greeting. He picked up the Shirley Temple from the set of drinks, the only non-alcoholic. “How are we doing here? Better than our dear Phillip, I hope.”</p><p> </p><p>All four glanced back to the bar, Phillip sipping lazily at a mojito, half slumped against the counter.</p><p> </p><p>“We haven’t touched him because we are afraid he’ll break if we move him,” Ethan confessed to the table.</p><p> </p><p>“Smart move,” Kate quipped, sliding over so Ethan had more room next to her. “Let’s keep that as the plan of action.”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate and I were chatting about the Bridgerton family tree,” Simon informed the two.</p><p> </p><p>Michael shook his head, happily drinking his fruity soft drink. “Why are you talking about the Bridgertons? Don’t get me wrong, I adore Franny, I do,” Kate’s eyebrows shot up, Michael almost stumbling over his words, “but enough about them! They might be the reason we are all together, but I want to know about all of you. The Non-Bridgertons.”</p><p> </p><p>“Non-Bridgertons?” Simon echoed, bemused.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Michael shot back, bumping his elbow into the man. Apparently Michael did not need alcohol to loosen up; he could do this all on his own. “You first tall, dark and handsome. What the hell do you do for a living, what’s your favorite color, and because we are all shitty millennials here who endured both <em>Harry Potter</em> and <em>Twilight</em>,  what’s your house and what team—<em>because I know you picked one</em>! Go!”</p><p> </p><p>Simon cleared his throat, laughing through his nose at the curious stares of the table. “I am a lawyer. I was a legal consultant for Bridgerton Media Publications…I am considering a job change because I miss my old one,” he confessed, oddly earnest despite the shallow questions thrusted upon him. “My favorite color is blue. According to Daphne I am a Slytherin, and I’m Team…Bella.”</p><p> </p><p>“Boo!” Michael cried out at his final question. His eyes narrowed on Simon. “You <em>would</em> be Team Bella.”</p><p> </p><p>“I believe Bella should choose who’d she wants to be with. Nothing wrong with letting the lady choose,” Simon said, not further arguing on the topic.</p><p> </p><p>Done with him, Michael turned to Ethan. “Green Eyes, go!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m an accountant for an art gallery. I actually met Benedict at—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Bup-bup-bup-bup</em>!” Michael waved at him. “No talk of Bridgertons!”</p><p> </p><p>Ethan sighed. “<em>Fine</em>. I’m an accountant for an art gallery. My favorite color is yellow. I’m a Hufflepuff,” he said with a small eyeroll, “and I was and still am to this day Team Jacob.”</p><p> </p><p>“Finally someone who admits it!” Michael hi-fived Ethan. His attention then swept over to Kate. “And now Kate the Great!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m an art teacher,” Ethan and Michael leaned closer with rapt interest, as if mocking her. She eyed the two, silently daring them to pull a taunting stunt. “My favorite color is forest green. I’m a Slytherin despite wanting to be a Ravenclaw all my life like my sister and I was team…” She covered her face with one hand, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “I was Team Edward,” she winced out. “I really liked that baseball scene in the first book and movie.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon snorted, trying to hide his laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing, Kate,” Simon assured her. “Laughing at something that came to mind that has absolutely nothing to do with you.”</p><p> </p><p>Pursing her lips she turned away from him and back to Michael. “Your turn Knight in Stirling Armor.”</p><p> </p><p>Michael snapped his fingers, grinning. “Clever.”</p><p> </p><p>She tipped her head to him. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>He thumped his palms against the top of table, feigning deep thought. “I’m a photographer and occasional barkeep when I want some extra cash. My favorite color is red. I’m a Gryffindor and Team Edward,” he prattled off, answers well prepared. “Because who doesn’t love a man who can sparkle?”</p><p> </p><p>They all giggled at this, a few eye rolls from them all, when Phillip finally decided to join their little group. He nudged at Ethan, he and Kate sliding over on the bench for him to sit. “I’m a Ph.D. candidate, part-time professor, and guardian to two devils,” he listed off, sloppily dropping down a finger with each one. “I am partial to green, but I kind like lavender. It’s pretty. And…I’m a Ravenclaw and…and….and I don’t remember Twilight so whatever Simon said.” He nodded to the man before flopping against the back of his seat.</p><p> </p><p>“None of what you said surprised me,” Michael declared.</p><p> </p><p>Phillip smiled. “Good. I like being a little predictable.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now that we are all here,” Michael sat up, eyeing each and everyone one of them carefully, “I think we should form a support group.”</p><p> </p><p>“A support group?” Kate uttered, finding the idea funny and endearing. “Whatever for?”</p><p> </p><p>“We all have a Bridgerton in our life—”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about them,” Ethan chimed in dryly.</p><p> </p><p>“Not now,” Michael hushed. “We can talk about them, I’m lifting the ban. As I was saying,” he puffed up his chest, proud of his idea, “we form a support group because lord knows we need a break from those loveable bastards from time to time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Here, here.” Phillip raised his glass, then drank the remains of his mojito.</p><p> </p><p>“A support group,” Simon mused, stroking his chin,  “would not be a terrible idea. We meet once week, or when the others are in town and go out? Maybe vent about our designated Bridgerton.” Murmurs of agreement sounded from the table…</p><p> </p><p>From all except Kate.</p><p> </p><p>She remained decidedly quite.</p><p> </p><p>Yet the men caught this almost immediately.</p><p> </p><p>Damn them for being somewhat perceptive males. The Bridgertons <em>would</em> pick partners and friends who were well attuned to emotions.</p><p> </p><p>“Not keen on the idea, Kate?” Ethan asked gently.</p><p> </p><p>“I, uh, I believe the idea is great,” she assured the table. “But…but I’m not…”</p><p> </p><p>Simon’s eyes saddened at the sight of her. Heavy and regretful, as though maybe he was about to be proven wrong about her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s gut clenched.</p><p> </p><p>She liked them, this little ragtag group of partners and friends. People who cared for the Bridgertons and by default had a fondness for each other. There was something special to note about people who could bond in an instant, who could become a close knit group overnight.</p><p> </p><p>Even if she was overwhelmed with her feelings for Anthony, terrified of how they’d proceed in their relationship…she didn’t want to let these blossoming friendships go.</p><p> </p><p>“But I cannot join this group unless we call Penelope!” she finally got out. “She and Colin are absolutely an item. I’m sure of it. And if anyone knows the Bridgerton family as well as Simon, it’s Penelope!”</p><p> </p><p>Relief flooded Simon’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Penelope and Colin?” Ethan turned to her, gripping her arm in excited desperateness.  “Tell me more. Benedict seems to know nothing and I swear <em>something</em> happened and no one is telling us about it.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon and Kate shared a glance. “Would you like to tell them?” he asked, smirking. “After all Kate, you were there.”</p><p> </p><p>Huh, she was there, wasn’t she? Part of a Bridgerton moment in history, as the brothers would so declare.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll need another glass to get through this story.” One magically appeared in her hand not a second later, the other three hanging on to her every word. “So we all know who Colin and Penelope are right…?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anthony was positive drool dripped down his neck.</p><p> </p><p>Squeezing his eyes shut then open, he blinked rapidly. Eyes groggy with sleep, he tried his best to read the digital clock by his television.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>12:45AM</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Shit. He hadn’t meant to fall sleep watching an <em>Indiana Jones </em>marathon (Colin’s pick), but the weariness of the day and days prior dragged on him. Sleep was inevitable.</p><p> </p><p>He just wish he hadn’t fallen asleep squished between his two grown, oversized brothers on the sofa.</p><p> </p><p>Shifting side to side, he tried to wiggle out of their heavy slumps, coming to no avail. Both were too massive and dead weight for Anthony to easily get up.</p><p> </p><p>On his left Benedict grumbled, an arm slapping Anthony in the face. On his right, Colin’s drool continued to seep into Anthony’s collar as his head rested comfortably on his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>There was no escape.</p><p> </p><p>“Col,” Anthony nudged his brother in the side, then the gut, “get up.”</p><p> </p><p>When his brother only snuggled deep into the sofa cushions, Anthony realized he was in a losing game. He was stuck and had to wait until either Colin or Benedict woke up. And who the hell knew when that was going to happen.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, he lulled his head back against the cushions.</p><p> </p><p>They hadn’t watched a film together for some time, let alone a marathon, all jumping at the opportunity when presented.</p><p> </p><p>It’d been nice to simply be with his brothers. Anthony felt a little more like himself around them; like how things use to be. But only a glimpse.</p><p> </p><p>In his quietness, Anthony looked around his flat. There was not much else he could do due to his trapped status. He looked from the plan, grey walls to the off white accent wall, to the black sofa and armchair combo. All simple, non-descript, and devoid of life. Walls and furniture used to simply function in the space. A purposeful decision. His flat wasn’t his home, but a home away from home. Most of his personal belongings were kept at Aubrey Hall, or even his room at his mother’s apartments, never having the heart to move out in earnest. Yes, he lived in his flat, but the bare minimum.</p><p> </p><p>He’d been with Siena in this flat.</p><p> </p><p>He’d been with plenty of other women here, in this space. Had them on any surface he so well pleased.</p><p> </p><p>Like a cold shock to his chest, Anthony realized he didn’t want Kate here.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want her to be where other women had been, or sleep in a bachelor’s bed, or even sit on the sofa he sat on in that very moment. Creeping horror consumed him at the mere thought of her stepping foot into the flat.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony decided he need to move.</p><p> </p><p>Get rid of the flat.</p><p> </p><p>Move somewhere else, somewhere…somewhere where it could be his <em>and</em> maybe hers. Where he wouldn’t feel an ounce ashamed or regret from his past relations.</p><p> </p><p>He nudged Colin again.</p><p> </p><p>This time his brother woke. “Huh?” He blinked, face scrunching. “What—what’s—” A yawn intercepted his words. “What time is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Almost one in the morning,” he droned.</p><p> </p><p>Colin shot up like a rocket. “No! I was supposed to go back to Pen’s.” He hurried over to the door, grabbing a jacket and stuffing his feet into his shoes haphazardly. “She told me I had one chance and to not fuck it up! I might be fucking it up—”</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you call her?” Anthony suggested. Carefully he edged away from Benedict, his brother falling face first against the sofa cushions once Anthony was gone from keeping him upright.</p><p> </p><p>“Right!” Colin snapped his fingers, redirecting his feet to the dining table where he last left his phone. “Calling is good. A good idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lower your voice,” Anthony hissed, maneuvering around the sofa. “Benedict is sleeping.” Snatching the blanket Colin stole from his bedroom, he draped the heavy duvet over Benedict’s slumped form.</p><p> </p><p>Colin exhaled, relieved. “She told me not to worry about stopping by. She wanted me to hang out with you two.” He gave a giddy, boyish grin followed by a longing sigh. “Isn’t Pen the best?”</p><p> </p><p>“The best for you,” Anthony told him as he passed by to the kitchen. He picked up a glass, filling it with water. “I think I’m going to move,” he announced with little prompting. “No,” he shook his head, then took a sip of his water, “I know I <em>am</em> going to move. But the lease is not up.” Anthony finally turned to his brother, Colin watching him with curious apprehension. “Do you want to live here?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Colin uttered. He glanced around the flat, as though he were double checking they had the same definition of ‘here.’ “You want me to live here? In this flat? Your flat?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’ll be your flat,” Anthony shot back, leaning against the kitchen counter. “If you want it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Such a strong decision to make near the haunting hour,” Colin joked.</p><p> </p><p>“But one I am sure of,” Anthony said, his conviction in his decision evident. He wanted to move. He was done with this flat.</p><p> </p><p>“Why the sudden inclination to move?” his brother asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to live here anymore,” came his matter-of-fact reply. “I don’t see myself living here anymore.” He glanced down at his water, wondering he should voice his thoughts—explain the strange shift of his emotions and dreams to his younger brother. Would Colin even understand? “When…when you start to see what your life can be, you kind of want it to happen as fast as it can.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know what you mean.”</p><p> </p><p>Looking back at his brother, Anthony found Colin did know what he meant. For all his foolishness and immaturity, there was still a man underneath. A man who lived and experienced adventures and relationships, as well as a life on his own.</p><p> </p><p>Of course Colin knew what he meant; Anthony should have gave him more credit.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll take it. Make it a bit of home base for my travels.” Colin spun around, surveying the flat with the intention of redesign and reconstruction, similar to those home buyers on home renovation shows. “But I’m going to need to change just about everything. The wall color, the furniture, maybe the hardwood floor—”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t change the floor.” Anthony pushed himself off the counter and began to head to his bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>“How about adding a skylight—”</p><p> </p><p>“Now you are being obnoxious,” Anthony called over his shoulder. They were on the fifth floor, of ten-story building. A skylight was not going to happen. “I’ll send you paperwork later this week. Good night, Colin.”</p><p> </p><p>His brother calls of good night, followed by quiet whoops of joy caused Anthony to chuckle. His brother would always be a bit of an obnoxious brat, but he was growing up and for once Anthony wasn’t going to try to stop him or force him to do so.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Side by side by side, they looked like a set of triplets. Chestnut hair, tall stature, left ankle crossed over the right knee, and ironically all wearing jackets the same shade of navy blue.</p><p> </p><p>Their mother would deem this a picture perfect moment had it not been for the obvious ominousness inherent to medical waiting rooms.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting between his two brothers, Anthony felt small (not too difficult considering both Benedict and Colin <em>were</em> taller than him by just a few inches, much to his chagrin all his life) but comforted.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Bridgerton?”</p><p> </p><p>All three heads snapped up from their twiddling thumbs, dazed off stare, and phone.</p><p> </p><p>The nurse faltered, perhaps stunned to see three men so alike beside each other. She blinked, double checking her clipboard.</p><p> </p><p>None of them moved for a fraction of a second, before Benedict nudged Anthony. “She means you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know she means me,” he gritted out. He stood up from his chair, sending both his brothers a clouded, forlorn glance.</p><p> </p><p>“See you on the other side,” Colin leaned back in his chair, legs kicking out and crossing over the ankle, “we’ll be right here waiting for you.”</p><p> </p><p>His brothers matching encouraging grins were enough to push Anthony forward.</p><p> </p><p>“You have good brothers. Not many families accompany each other for this kind of appointment,” the nurse said conversationally.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.." his lips twitched up, giving into the smile, "yeah, I do have good brothers.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love that last scene. Love my boys :)</p><p>So. Much. Happened. I mean...It was 12.5k chapter, a lot should happen.</p><p>SOME NOTES~</p><p>1. Yes, I gave you some Kanthony before AN ENTIRE CHAPTER WITHOUT THEM. Yes, we have already established I am evil.</p><p>2. Benedict asserted himself in this chapter. He and Colin really tried this time, y'all. We got our bro moments!</p><p>3. Lucy Alfaro IS Lucy Abernathy! We caught a glimpse of her. She'll be in the sequel :)</p><p>3.5. On the topic of name changes, this upcoming week I'll start going through the fic and editing Kate's name to 'Sharma-Sheffield'</p><p>4. If you were unsure if Kate and Anthony were soulmates, THEIR EMAIL TENDENCIES HAVE PROVED THEY ARE.</p><p>4.5. Speaking of email tendencies...ONE OF THE COMPANION FICS IS POSTED! 'Leave a Voicemail; Then Erase It'--a series of emails/texts/phone calls etc from this universe. It's categorized as the next fic in this series. If you haven't read it, check it out!</p><p>5. The Non-Bridgerton Gang are my favorite, I said what I said.</p><p>5.5. Yes, I purposely made the getting to know you convo cringe-y, lol. Because who hasn't had awkward, cringe, half-drunk shallow conversations like this? And yes, Kate is a Slytherin. I will die on this hill. </p><p>6. GUESS WHO STARTED READING THE ROKESBY SERIES? ME. Not my favorite so far, but I appreciate the history it adds to the Bridgerton family. Especially Billie, Georgie, and Poppy.</p><p>6.5. OK! I tried to answer some of those 'How wealthy are the Bridgertons?' and the 'How famous are the Bridgertons?' questions with this chapter. But literally I know nothing about how this all works and when I tried to read up on stuff, I got confused (for reference my degree is nowhere near business, lol) but I tried my best and re-binged some Ugly Betty to get an idea of how I wanted to go with this, lol. But basically we get the idea that Anthony is the only one who can run the company, but he and his family have the lowest stake in the company. THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERS. No one come after me for not being accurate, I know I'm not 😂</p><p>7. ANTHONY IS MOVING OUT BECAUSE OUR BOY WANTS TO HAVE A LIFE WITH KATE *sobs*</p><p>8. Fun Fact: A lot of this chapter actually plants some bits for the sequel. I know, weird considering we have like ten more chapters, but two of those are epilogues, three of those chapters are going to be a whirlwind for reasons I cannot yet say, another upcoming chapter is entirely a flashback. Like....we are in the homestretch fam. After this next chapter, it's a marathon to the end ekkkk.</p><p>Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. The Fifteenth & Sixteenth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wanted to update sooner, but I needed to sleep on the chapter before doing a couple of more edits.</p><p>A NOTE--My fancast/face claim for Edmund is Hugh Jackman. I know there is a love for Colin Firth as Edmund, but I DON'T SEE IT. In my mind he is Darcy and Darcy is no Edmund; I firmly believe Hugh Jackman's Edmund would be a rake while Firth's...not so much.  Also look at a picture of Hugh Jackman and Jonathan Bailey side by side...they look like they can play father-son *shrugs* </p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>An overcast sky welcomed them upon reaching the cemetery.</p><p> </p><p>Fitting for a death anniversary, Anthony mused. But not fitting for Edmund Bridgerton.</p><p> </p><p>Each sibling dressed in blacks and greys, as they’d done year after year, trekked up the familiar path to the Bridgerton plot. Violet led the pack, Daphne and Benedict keeping admirable pace with her, while Eloise and Anthony found themselves in the rear. Their steps carried with less adamancy and more weight in comparison to the rest of the family, an unspoken understanding drifting between the two.</p><p> </p><p>They were always the last to say their goodbyes to Father.</p><p> </p><p>A silly part of Anthony longed for Kate to join him; keep him company in grieving. But as he witnessed his siblings all declined their own partners on their offer to accompany them, Anthony knew it best not to. This day was reserved for family, and for once everyone understood this.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s odd.”</p><p> </p><p>“What is?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony glanced over to his sister, finding her worrying away at her bottom lip. Crossing her arms, she hugged her thick cardigan tighter around her.</p><p> </p><p>“This.” She nodded to their siblings before them, then to the various headstones lined up across the cemetery. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to remember Father. However when I come here I cannot help but think how after we do this, and we grow old, and then we die…no one will remember him. The cycle continues; with each passing generation, another fades into oblivion. Only with a headstone no one will visit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t you a bundle of sunshine and daisies,” Anthony muttered, disturbed by her shared thought. However, he could not blame her. Death brought out the strangest sides of the grieving, Eloise and himself not excluded.</p><p> </p><p>She shrugged. “When one visits a cemetery, morbid thoughts are abound.”</p><p> </p><p>He snorted. Eloise spoke in truths; good and bad.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps best to keep those thoughts to yourself when around the rest of our family,” he warned. “Not everyone is like me and can take your remarks in stride.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” She blinked at him, grey eyes sharp and teasing. “That’s why I shared the thought with you. You’d understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“How so?”</p><p> </p><p>“You fear death,” she said plainly, “like me. But also accept it, like me.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s quite an observation.” He cleared his throat as a gust of wind ran rampant down the hills and through their path.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Here is some light reading...” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Anthony stared down at the pamphlets handed to him. One would think his hands would shake and the world would go numb as the facts were slowly laid out to him. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>None of this happened. He felt in his body, more aware than ever before.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“So…it could be chronic migraines or—or cancer?” he uttered, his voice not sounding like his own. He sounded younger. Disconnected from the frantic pulsating frequency of his heartbeat. “That’s,” he swallowed thickly, “a large jump in diagnosis.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t want you to panic or worry,” the doctor assured him, rolling back to her computer, her chair almost sliding out from under her, “but if these symptoms are as persistent as you claim, and the scan comes back indicating a tumor, then we need to jump right into treatment.” She pointed to the pamphlets. “That’s to educate yourself. Not rely on the internet. And to give you an idea on the next steps you may need to make based on your results.” Dr. Quinn met his eyes levelly. “As of right now, we are only being cautious and pragmatic. So don’t spiral, okay?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>A task easier said than done.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Ahead of them, Gregory spared a glance, double checking to see if they were following.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise beamed at him, teeth bared.</p><p> </p><p>Their younger brother rolled his eyes, grumbled, and caught up with Francesca and Colin.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you visit my grave if I died young?”</p><p> </p><p>His sister did not seem bothered by the abruptness of his question, genuinely considering her plan of action if such a scenario would occur.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she finally settled, a sure nod to her answer. “In fact, I think I’d visit you more than I visit Father.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s chest panged. None of them were particular great at visiting their father’s grave except for a select few. He’d been diligent in the early years, same as his brothers and the older sisters. Yet as the years went on, visits were less and he’d be lucky if he went out to the Bridgerton plot once a year outside of July.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d keep you up to date on the latest gossip,” Eloise continued, grinning proudly. “Inform you on our siblings doing and deeds; someone would have to so you can roll around in your grave each time you feel the need to ‘kill us’!”</p><p> </p><p>He could not refrain an eyeroll. “I appreciate the thought, sister.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” She looped her arm through his, the gravesite looming upon them. “But you’re not dying any time soon,” she ordered, jaw set. “I’ll make sure of it. If you need a kidney, I’ll donate mine and if not me, I am sure one of us is a match.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t need a kidney.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. It’s a hypothetical, you moron.” Her arm tightened around his, peering up at him thoughtfully. “Would you donate a kidney for me?”</p><p> </p><p>“In a heartbeat.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.”</p><p> </p><p>Soon they were with their siblings surrounding the headstone, the line shifting into clumps as they stood before Father.</p><p> </p><p>Early morning dew sat upon the stone and grass, a reminder of how the day was just beginning. How there was more to follow and more to come after this moment…</p><p> </p><p>Anthony hummed a little to himself, quiet enough for no one but Eloise to hear. An old habit he had since he was a child to calm himself down, one he must have picked up from his father, his mother never the hummer or singer or whistler.</p><p> </p><p>Always a tune he could never place, but one he knew his father murmured to all of them as children…</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>July 15<sup>th</sup>, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>The Day Before Edmund Bridgerton's Passing</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Mornings when dew glistened across the field, the sun peaking through the overcast, and quietness of the world were his favorites. These moments reminded him of his time as a boy, sitting with his older sister on the roof and watching the rest of the universe wake up as the moon dipped lower and lower out of sight.</p><p> </p><p>If only his youngest understood the beauty of the nature surrounding their great ancestral home instead of fussing in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>“Gregory,” Edmund murmured in the toddler’s ear, his humming clearly not working, “let’s not. We are to be in good spirits today.”</p><p> </p><p>Of course, the boy did not understand him. Instead Gregory wiggled in his arms, begging to be released and run about the study. With six children out of their terrible twos, Edmund was no green father. He knew releasing the worming child would only lead to destruction.</p><p> </p><p>Stepping away from his study’s window, Edmund carried his son out of the study. “Perhaps some milk would do you some good, eh?” he muttered to boy, making his way to the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Only to find his eldest daughter to be sitting at the kitchen counter with her own milk and biscuits served, munching away.</p><p> </p><p>“Daphne,” Edmund aghast, dramatically clutching his chest with his free hand. “Milk and biscuits at seven in the morning?”</p><p> </p><p>His nine year old nodded primly, her bangs flopping into her eyes. She needed a trim, desperately, but she refused. Daphne wanted to grow out her hair like the other girls in her year and neither Violet or him were going to stop her. “Yes, Papa.” Her legs kicked back and forth from under the barstool, she still far too tiny for her legs to touch the footrests. Picking up two biscuits, she held them out for him. “Would you and Gregory like one?”</p><p> </p><p>“Would we like one?” He sat down beside her, switching Gregory to his other hip. “We’d love one! Why didn’t you ask sooner?” He accepted the biscuits, handing one off to Gregory. This calmed the boy down, he gnawing sloppily on the treat.</p><p> </p><p>His little girl giggled behind her milk. “I didn’t know you were awake. If I knew I would have got you!”</p><p> </p><p>With his free hand, he booped her nose. “Laughy-Daffy, when <em>aren’t</em> I awake?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was about to ask the same thing.”</p><p> </p><p>Both father and daughter looked up to find a <em>very</em> pregnant Violet standing in the kitchen doorway. Hand resting on her belly, she waddled over to the kettle, flipping the switch on.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought I told you to go to bed five hours ago,” she admonished to him. Wisps of dark brown-auburn hair slipped from her bun, she tucking the strands back in place without even a second of lapse. From his seat she looked delectable, delightful, and devastating in the best way—after all this time he had to hamper down the urge to scoop Violet into his arms and run away with her.</p><p> </p><p>“I had work to finish,” Edmund explained lightly. Gregory’s drool pooled on the crook of his arm. “And right as I was about to join you in bed, this one’s cries pulled me away. If anything, you should be thanking me my dearest.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet quirked an eyebrow, hand on her hip. “Oh really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes really,” he shot back, smug. “I saved you from soothing our youngest. You who is valiantly carrying our wonderful eighth child. I have kept this little man company for hours.”</p><p> </p><p>“You need to let him soothe himself,” Violet reminded him testily.</p><p> </p><p>“And not have the most riveting conversations with my boy?” Edmund cackled back. He could never stand the sound of his children’s cries. “I’ll have you know Gregory has the most captivating thoughts and opinions on matters of the heart.” He pressed a kiss to his son’s chestnut curls, Gregory leaning into his touch.</p><p> </p><p>Violet sighed, turning away from him in favor for a mug. “Tonight you are sleeping in our bed. I will make sure of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure you will.” He wiggled his eyebrows.</p><p> </p><p>“Edmund!” This wasn’t a scolding, but a flushed giggle.</p><p> </p><p>“Ew, they’re flirting again!” Colin, his twelve year old, announced to the rest of the house. He went straight to the refrigerator, on the hunt for food, though not without snatching one of Daphne’s biscuits.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” she cried out. “That’s mine! Give it back!</p><p> </p><p>Colin shoved the entire biscuit into his mouth. “No can do!” he shouted through his mouth full.</p><p> </p><p>“Colin, manners,” Violet swatted lightly at their son’s shoulder before moving him away from the refrigerator. “Breakfast will be set out in the sunroom in less than an hour.” Waddling with new determination, she snatched the pack of biscuits from Edmund and Daphne. “No more nibbles!”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne slumped.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund slid her over the three biscuits he swipped.</p><p> </p><p>She smiled at him.</p><p> </p><p>That made his morning.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>~*~</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Edmund barely stepped outside for his daily walk around the estate—for his health, he told his wife, but his boys knew he’d go off to have a smoke without Violet’s stern and disappointed gaze on him—when two little arms and a weight strapped themselves on to his right leg.</p><p> </p><p>He did not need to look down at the mop of chestnut hair to know it was his little shadow.</p><p> </p><p>Deciding to humor the girl, he went forward with his right, lifting her along with the step. Giggles lifted to his ear. He repeated the gate, an easy left and heavy right as he walked down the path laid out before the house.</p><p> </p><p>“My god, when did my right leg get so heavy…” he pondered to the sky loudly.</p><p> </p><p>Raspy laughter came from below, Eloise’s chin digging into his shin. “It’s me Papa! It’s me!”</p><p> </p><p>He looked down, jaw dropping in astonishment. “My god, it’s my daughter! How on earth did you get there, little miss?”</p><p> </p><p>She grinned up at him, one tooth missing from her smile. Eloise had lost her left top tooth a few days back, she tucking it under her pillow for the tooth fairy. He and Violet agreed on a twenty quid, but Edmund could not help himself when it came to Eloise and slipped her another. After all, he was the tooth fairy and the tooth fairy <em>did</em> decide a tooth’s worth.</p><p> </p><p>“Can we go on the trail again?” she asked peering up at him with sharp, inquisitive eyes.</p><p> </p><p>As much as he’d like to twist to her whims, Edmund only had so many moments to himself in a day, his daily walk one of them. He still needed to attend to his work when he got back, as well as check in on Benedict who’d been prone to locking himself in his room as of late and listening to terribly sad and depressing music on repeat, <em>The Smiths</em> amongst them. He’d been more distant since he and his art studio friend Henry had their falling out. A falling out for reasons his son would not disclose.</p><p> </p><p>Violet feared the worst, believing her sweet boy was depressed.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund assured her it was merely a phase. Boys went through their own bouts of moodiness just as much as girls, especially repressed teenage boys. He’d gone through the melodrama with Anthony (who thankfully did not try to grow out his hair in a ridiculous mane again after his ‘chewing gum’ incident); Benedict would be no different.</p><p> </p><p>But still she worried. So to soothe his wife he promised to check in on their second son, possibly coerce him into a game or two out in the field, maybe rope Anthony and sprouting Colin into the mix as well to even the teams.</p><p> </p><p>“Sadly my dear we cannot go on the trail today. I promise we can go tomorrow. Papa has work—”</p><p> </p><p>“You said that yesterday. And the day before that,” his daughter astutely reminded him.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund bit his tongue. The sneaky smart bastard. Eloise was once again reminding him she was one he’d have to look out for in the future. “I did say that, didn’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>She nodded, her little moppy bob waving to-and-fro. “Do you not want to be with me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I want to be with you,” he assured her. “There is no other missing-tooth-wonder I would want to be with.”</p><p> </p><p>She frowned shrewdly up at him. “Go on the trail with me.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed. “You see Eloise,” he began, “Papa has work and duties to attend to as--<em>well</em>, as being the papa of the house.”</p><p> </p><p>A snort sounded from above them.</p><p> </p><p>Both looked up, finding one of the bedrooms’ windows open.</p><p> </p><p>The sticking up brown hair and agile duck told Edmund his eldest was listening. And laughing. At <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>His lips downturned.</p><p> </p><p>Reaching down, Edmund plucked Eloise from his leg and set her on his hip. “But do you know what one of my most important duties as papa of the house is?”</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head.</p><p> </p><p>“Terrorizing your older brother,” he whispered evilly in her ear. “Want to help me?”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise’s eyes lit up with glee, she nodding her head.</p><p> </p><p>His usual walk forgotten, Edmund carried Eloise back into the house. He dashed up the stairs with her, she trying her best to muffle her laughter into his shoulder as they crept closer and closer to Anthony’s room.</p><p>As they stopped outside the bedroom, Eloise shushed him. She pressed a finger to her lips, eyes wide in warning.</p><p> </p><p>“Right idea,” he murmured in approval. Eloise was always the perfect little partner in crime; the other kids were too giggly or loud without even trying, but his little shadow knew how to be spy. And one had to be a pretty darn good spy to pounce a Bridgerton.</p><p> </p><p>Hand on the doorknob, he gave Eloise a nod. She nodded once right back.</p><p> </p><p>He flung open Anthony’s door. “Attack him!” Edmund cried out, tossing Eloise on to Anthony’s bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Ahh!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ack</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise landed on Anthony’s chest, effectively knocking the book he’d been reading out of his hands. “Get off me!” His arms flew up in the air, stunned and fuming.</p><p> </p><p>She wiggled off his chest, only to catch him into a vicious headlock.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Anthony seethed, shaking side to side to knock Eloise off of him. His eyes locked on Edmund, aggravated pleading. “Aren’t <em>you</em> going to do something?”</p><p> </p><p>Watching his son struggle to get the seven year old off of him, Edmund leaned against the doorframe, cackling. “I am rather enjoying this smack-down. Best entertainment I’ve seen all week.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony glared.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund only laughed harder.</p><p> </p><p>Arms reaching behind him, Anthony finally caught hold of Eloise and wretched her off of him. He dropped her on the bed, her huffy and puffy giggles matching in time with Edmund’s.</p><p> </p><p>His son’s head whipped back and forth between them, annoyed beyond compare. “You two together is the worst!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh please,” Edmund waved off, ambling into the room. He picked up Anthony’s fallen book. “You were just reading…<em>Letters to a Young Poet</em>.” Edmund raised a knowing eyebrow, eyeing the worn spine. “Haven’t you read this a thousand times?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony shrugged and then tossed a pillow at Eloise’s face. She hugged it like a monkey thoroughly distracted. “Maybe I want to read it a thousand and one times. Or perhaps a thousand more.”</p><p> </p><p>Edmund handed it back. His son, like himself, was bookworm. Not a proud or boastful bookworm, but one who read in his quiet free time like it was nothing, a mere instinctual reaction. Could sit for hours and hours reading away and not feel like he wasted a day. He confessed as much once.</p><p> </p><p>“You know one often finds themselves returning to a book such as this because it holds a piece of them or speaks a truth they long to hear,” Edmund said casually, not pressing too hard on the issue. Anthony was due to return to university in a couple of months, and he was still undecided—or rather he <em>did</em> decided, all his courses pointing towards literature, yet his official transcripts remained ‘undecided.’ Whenever Edmund tried to bring this up, Anthony changed the subject.</p><p> </p><p>He feared his son thought he’d be disappointed in his interests and passions, when this was furthest from the truth.</p><p> </p><p>His son, of course, saw right through this attempt of casualness. Anthony tucked the book into his bedside table.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony—” Edmund glanced over to Eloise, who was now fascinated with tugging on a loose thread on her t-shirt. Neither Edmund or Anthony had the heart to scold nor stop her. He turned back to his son. “If you want to pursue a career in literature, whatever it may be, I won’t stop you.”</p><p> </p><p>His son sighed, clearly uncomfortable with this conversation. “The family business—”</p><p> </p><p>Edmund rested a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You have something I never had—capable brothers. Not to mention you also have far too capable sisters.” He squeezed Anthony’s shoulder, his son finally meeting his gaze. “And <em>time</em>. You have plenty of time, son. You have time to figure what you want to do with your life. There is no need to worry or rush. In fact I don’t want you to worry about anything concerning the family business; that’s my job and I am not ready for anyone to take it from me just yet.” Edmund felt his lips quirk up, hiding the shred of remorse he had at his words.</p><p> </p><p>He and Violet discussed stepping away from the business. Finding a way to pass over the reins to a cousin or completely to Billie. He wanted to set an example for his children; he never wanted any of them to feel trapped to serve the business. Better yet, he wanted to teach them how to walk away.</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes it was necessary to walk away to find ones’ happiness again and embrace what they truly cared for. Edmund was still learning to do this himself, and he felt he was getting better at it every day.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund patted his son on arm before scooping up Eloise. “Do me a favor and take this one to her sister’s room. I heard rumors there will be a tea party this afternoon and I am positive Daphne will not be happy if Eloise is not present.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony huffed, but didn’t argue. Standing up, he held his arms out, Eloise leaping into them. His son soften, wrapping his arms securely around his sister. “Lets go ‘Loise,” his son muttered, carrying of the girl out the door and down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise waved over Anthony’s shoulder to him. She blew a kiss.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund caught it and clutched the kiss to his heart.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>~*~</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Knockity, knock, knock,” Edmund announced, knocking on Benedict’s door. When no one responded, he knocked again before reaching for the door. “Ready or not—the door is going to open!”</p><p> </p><p>The door nearly flung off its hinges before Edmund could touch the brass doorknob.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict met his eye, his son the same height.</p><p> </p><p>He shifted slightly, hugging the door to his side tighter. “Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Coming to see if you are still alive,” Edmund drawled, “and still have hearing.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict’s face hardened ever so slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“I must say as much as I enjoy <em>The Smiths</em>, I’d never blast ‘Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now.’” He tsked, frowning. “A tinge too sad and blunt for my tastes.”</p><p> </p><p>His son sighed, though didn’t argue him. Benedict wasn’t one to argue, not like Anthony or even Colin. If anything Benedict preferred to be a mediator, or peacemaker, or simply remove himself from the equation all together. As he had done so for the last couple of weeks.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like to be the bearer of bad news but…” Edmund shook his head. “You need to go outside, you’re starting to look like a vampire. And do you really want to become a vampire who listens to <em>The Smiths</em> for eternity?”</p><p> </p><p>The corner of his mouth tucked up.</p><p> </p><p><em>Success</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you join me on my walk?” Edmund suggested. “I get my <em>exercise</em>.” They both knew exercise meant ‘smoke’, Benedict rolling his eyes. “You get out of this room and let it air out for once this week. Your mother gets off both our backs. Hm? Good idea?”</p><p> </p><p>His son mulled the idea over, then sighed. “Fine. I’ll go get my jacket.”</p><p> </p><p>Edmund clapped his shoulder. “That’s my boy. Meet you downstairs?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict nodded, closing the door after him.</p><p> </p><p>Satisfied with the turn of events, Edmund made his way down the hall, passing by Daphne’s room—</p><p> </p><p>“No! No, this is all wrong,” she insisted, hands on hips. “We need even numbers!”</p><p> </p><p>—only to walk right back. He stood close to the doorway, keeping mostly out of his children’s sight. Not that it mattered, the three far too invested in their conversation.</p><p> </p><p>His eldest daughter stood proud in front of Eloise and Anthony—who’d unfortunately got roped into his sisters’ playtime—with lips pursed. “We cannot have a party with only three people. We need more.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>More</em>?” Anthony echoed, raising an eyebrow. He tugged at the edge of the floppy, sparkly sunhat Daphne must have planted on his head. He looked a little ridiculous sitting in the tiny play table chairs; too tall and legs too long, yet Anthony sat with dignity. Edmund would not expect any less. “I don’t think you’re going to get more than us, Daff,” he explained delicately. “Remember Francesca still has her cold. She can’t be playing right now.”</p><p> </p><p>Beside him Eloise huffed, dropping her chin into her hand. The hot pink feathers of her boa floofed up, tickling her nose. A tiny sneeze escaped her.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne frowned down at her. “You can’t get sick too.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not,” Eloise grumbled. “I’m bored. Can we start playing already?”</p><p> </p><p>“No!”</p><p> </p><p>Luckily Edmund spotted Colin rounding the corner, chomping down on an apple. The damn boy was spouting like a weed and eating like a behemoth. Watching his boy, he often wondered if Colin would surpass them all in height.</p><p> </p><p>Giving little greeting, Edmund caught the back of Colin’s collar and brought the boy over to the door. “Colin would like to play!”</p><p> </p><p>“I would <em>what</em>!” he son squawked, staring up at him wide eye. He looked between Daphne and Edmund, sputtering. “I don’t want to play with a bunch of little girls!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hey</em>!” Anthony grumbled out.</p><p> </p><p>Colin raised his eyebrows. “<em>Fine</em>—I would not like to play with a bunch of little girls <em>and</em> my lame brother who doesn’t know how to say ‘no’!”</p><p> </p><p>Edmund pinched the back of Colin’s neck.</p><p> </p><p>“Ow!” the boy yelped.</p><p> </p><p>“Knock it off,” Edmund scolded. “You are going to be nice and play with your sisters. Be like Anthony—” Colin scowled at this, Edmund immediately regretting the comparison. But he already dug his grave, so might as well lie in it. “—he’s playing with the girls. Like a <em>good</em> older brother.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can have the crown,” Daphne offered, holding up a plastic ruby rhinestone crown from her chest of costume pieces. “It’ll fit you,” she assured him kindly.</p><p> </p><p>Colin stared down at the crown, then back up at Edmund. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head, mouth in a firm line. “No, ‘fraid not.”</p><p> </p><p>His son sighed and snatched the crown from Daphne. “I’m Sir Colin of Colinsland and I will be addressed as such.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne didn’t seem too pleased with this declaration, use to picking out the characters and names for her guests. But even at her young age she knew better than to look a gifted horse in the mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” she stepped aside for him to enter the room further. “You are in the seat next to mine.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin followed her orders, but not before sending him an aggrieved glance.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll thank me one day,” Edmund said in return, his words barely heard over Daphne’s resumed chatter.</p><p> </p><p>Stepping away from the door, Edmund spotted Benedict head towards the stairs. He joined him, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulder. “Let us go! The path waits for no one!”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict smiled, Edmund hugging his shoulder a little tighter.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>~*~</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Meal times were Edmund’s favorite time of day, simply because it was when all his children would gather in one place. They’d laugh and tease and enjoy a fellowship only kin could achieve in such practices. No one missed dinner unless illness decided to kick them in the behind, and even then, a rarity at that.</p><p> </p><p>His daughters came chasing after each other, giggling. Colin was not far behind, face no longer as sour as it had been when Edmund left him to play with his siblings. His twelve year old sat down in the chair beside Benedict, across from his sisters, already reaching for the laid out bread rolls.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund didn’t scold him, turning an eye away in favor strapping Gregory into his high-chair seat. The toddler babbled to him, happy and grabby. His chubby hands latched on to Edmund’s shirt more than one, smearing snot and caked puff snack on to him. At this point, number seven of soon to be eight children, he did not react at the mess.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony soon joined them, taking the seat on Edmund’s right, as he had always done since he was a boy.</p><p> </p><p>“I see the glitter came off,” Edmund muttered with a small chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>The girls had taken to smearing make-up on to Anthony’s face after their little tea party. Of course his eldest son let his sisters have their way, Colin undoubtedly running away before they could sink their clutches into him. It was well known amongst the Bridgertons and family friends Anthony had a hard time saying ‘no’ to his sisters, seemingly twisting to their every harmless whim. And while his other sons would mock their brother for it, Edmund found this to be his son’s most admirable trait.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony cared, more than he liked to let on, and Edmund wouldn’t have been surprised if his eldest had his own massive family of his own one day. He had the spirit for it.</p><p> </p><p>“Took longer than expected,” Anthony answered. He leaned over, lowering his voice, his eyes darting to the dining room entrance. “Don’t tell Mama, but I had to use some of her make-up cream to get it all off.”</p><p> </p><p>Edmund chortled. Gregory joined him, oblivious, yet happy to laugh at any given moment. “Your secret is safe with me, son.” A secret, no matter how frivolous, between father and son as never met to be broken. He knew his sons took comfort in this, coming to him for anything and everything, even if it took some begrudged nudging and probing.</p><p> </p><p>The last to come to dinner was his wife. Fraught yet elegant, Violet came to his side, resting a warm hand at the base of his neck. “I’m afraid Francesca is not well enough for dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>“Again?” Edmund frowned. Francesca had been battling a terrible summer cold for most of their holiday. The rest of the house caught the stubborn cold weeks prior, Edmund believing Colin had been the culprit when he returned from summer camp. The cold easily spread amongst his sons, the three knocking it out of their systems after a few days. Even Gregory had the sniffles for a day or two before resuming his usual rambunctious disposition. Edmund soon caught it as well, the older girls and Violet quick to follow; after a week they were all fine. But unlike the others, Francesca had been bedridden for days.</p><p> </p><p>They’d taken her to the doctor only for her symptoms to be declared a cold; Francesca’s immune system was merely not the best.</p><p> </p><p>Violet worried her lip before giving him a small, balm-ing smile. “She’ll be okay. She looks better. More color in her cheeks. But I worry she’s grown sad, being so removed from everyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then we shall remedy that.” Edmund stood to his feet. His family turned to him like clockwork. “Everyone—fill up and grab your plate. We are having dinner in Francesca’s room!”</p><p> </p><p>“The sick room?” Eloise’s nose wrinkled.</p><p> </p><p>“You already got the cold,” Benedict reminded her. “You’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Franny is lonely and sad,” Edmund told the table. “Do you want to leave her lonely and sad?”</p><p> </p><p>Mumbles of ‘no’ sounded from his children.</p><p> </p><p>Except for one ‘yes.’ From Eloise.</p><p> </p><p>Glares from the others were sent her way.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” she grumbled. “<em>No</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” Edmund clapped his hands together. “Then lets go!” He ushed the children up and out of their seats while Violet left for the kitchen, asking the cook and housekeeper to put together another couple of plates for themselves and Francesca. Unstrapping Gregory from his chair, Edmund picked up the boy and grabbed his bowl of soft peas and carrots.</p><p> </p><p>The line of Bridgertons began with Anthony and Daphne and ended with Edmund and Gregory, all the children scattered in-between. Somehow Eloise had latched herself on to Benedict’s back, the boy carrying her and both their plates without too much spillage.</p><p> </p><p>Colin shook his head at the display. Edmund had half the mind to flick the boy’s ear; he’d been in his ‘I hate my sisters’ phase for a good few months, it now transitioning into ‘I hate anything to do with my family’ phase. While Edmund understood Colin was entering the harrowing teenage years, the boy was still his boy; his family loved him and he needed to treat them kindly.</p><p> </p><p>Upon entering Francesca’s room, the children could not contain themselves. The girls quickly climbed on to the bed, their brothers’ helping them set down their food on their laps. Daphne and Eloise chattered away to their astonished younger sister, the first time they’d been able to speak with her in a couple of days. The sweet and quiet six year old rubbed at her eyes, barely understanding what was happening.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund passed off Gregory to Anthony, all his sons already gathered on the plush carpet for their own in-door picnic. The toddler squealed happily at the sight of his brother, clamoring on to his lap and shoving sticky fingers into his hair.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony did not get aggravated; instead he helped his youngest brother sit back down and eat.</p><p> </p><p>Satisfied with his boys, Edmund went to Francesca, sitting at her side on the bed. “Hello my dear,” he greeted her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I heard the terrible news you could not have dinner downstairs with us, so I thought why don’t we bring the dinner to you?”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca curled into his side, no words exchanged. Her tiny arms holding him in a hug was answer enough.</p><p> </p><p>Wrapping an arm around her, Edmund hugged her close. “Mama is having some soup sent up for you and will be here soon,” he assured her, gently patting down her mussed hair. “The rest of us have missed you. Isn’t that right everyone?”</p><p> </p><p>A rumble of ‘uh huhs’ and ‘yes’s were thrown about the room, most sincere despite their full mouths, but some not. As expected.</p><p> </p><p>Francesca smiled bashfully at the attention, hiding her face into his side.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund kept his hold on her, a quiet reassurance. Francesca slowly joined in on her sisters conversation, asking questions about their party she sadly could not attend. So rarely was attention on his youngest daughter, sweet and observant Francesca getting lost in the chaos of their family.</p><p> </p><p>He’d have to make extra effort with her. He had to. He could not let Francesca be forgotten. She was too important. After all she was a Bridgerton, and already at six years old, Edmund knew was going to one day make waves in the world, he was sure of it. As sure as the rising sun.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>~*~</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As he’d done most evenings, Edmund tucked in and checked-in on all his children. From youngest to oldest.</p><p> </p><p>Gregory went down with ease for once, sleeping away after a fulfilling dinner. Francesca and Eloise were soon after; for all her mumblings and grumblings about visiting her younger sister, Eloise refused to leave her side after dinner. Both girls fell asleep, side by side.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne fought to stay up longer, but her yawn gave her away. Edmund read her a book, the beginning of <em>Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone</em>. He promised to read her the next chapter the following evening.</p><p> </p><p>Colin was wide awake, playing on the XBOX in the den. He wasn’t allowed to play his video games in his room just yet—Violet was afraid he’d stay up all night if he had the blasted thing in there. Edmund made him promise to keep the volume low and go to bed before midnight.</p><p> </p><p>His son kept his promise, knowing his father rarely slept and would come checking to see if he’d turned in for the night at midnight.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict was already asleep when Edmund checked in on him. His record player continued to spin, <em>The Smiths</em> once again filling the dark and heavy curtain room. With careful feet, Edmund crept into the room and lifted the needle. Morrisey’s bemoaned crooning came to a blissful halt.</p><p> </p><p>His son remained none-the-wiser.</p><p> </p><p>Across the hall, a door down, Anthony remained awake.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund wasn’t surprised. He noticed his son had terrible sleeping habits like himself. Awake all hours of the day and night, a rarity to catch him asleep.</p><p> </p><p>He knocked on the doorframe.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony looked up, <em>Letters to a Young Poet</em> in his hands once more. His son wore glasses. An odd nostalgia stirred in Edmund at the sight; Anthony had been embarrassed of his glasses for ages, begging to switch to contacts for years. It wasn’t until he was fourteen did Edmund and Violet cave to his wishes. From then on Anthony never left his room without his contacts in.</p><p> </p><p>But to see Anthony with his glasses on, reading…</p><p> </p><p>Edmund felt like his son was a boy and man all at once. The two parts of him reconciling in a singular moment.</p><p> </p><p>“You need something?” Anthony asked, dogearing his page.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Edmund shook his head, leaning against the doorframe. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Night,” Anthony muttered, falling back against his pillows. He opened his book again—</p><p> </p><p>“I think you and Benedict should go do something together tomorrow,” Edmund suggested. “Play some footie. Or croquet match? He needs to get out more. He’s been bottled up in that room and he wouldn’t talk to me on our walk.”</p><p> </p><p>His son sighed, sitting back up. “He’s heartbroken.”</p><p> </p><p>“Over a friendship ending?” Edmund muttered, not understanding. “I’ve had my share of friendship fall outs, but you shrug ‘em off and move forward. Doesn’t matter if it hurts. He’s acting like Henry is some girl who crushed his heart.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stiffened. He opened and closed his book, then cleared his throat. Clearly Edmund said something wrong, but he had no idea what. “You know, everyone deals with…with <em>fall outs</em> differently. Remember when I wouldn’t speak to Simon for a week because he beat me in a card game?”</p><p> </p><p>“You and Simon are best friends,” Edmund reminded him. “Simon is practically a brother. Hell, he could marry one of your sisters one day and we can make it official,” Edmund jested.</p><p> </p><p>Horror and disgust swept over Anthony. “<em>Ew</em>! No. No. No. That’s gross. Simon marrying one of my sisters? They’re not even ten!”</p><p> </p><p>“I said ‘one day,’ not now,” Edmund scolded lightly. “Never the mind, Henry was just some art class buddy. Not a lifelong friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony shrugged. “Like I said, everyone deals with fall outs differently.”</p><p> </p><p>Edmund sighed. “So…does that mean you’ll hang out with Benedict tomorrow? I would do it myself but I promised Eloise I’d take her on the nature trail. Plus I think your brother can do for some brotherly bonding. Brothers are built-in best friends.”</p><p> </p><p>His son rolled his eyes. “Yeah. We’ll hang out. Don’t worry about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Great,” Edmund stepped back, rubbing his hands together. “Thank you and good night, Anthony,” he called to his son over his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>A ‘good night’ was tossed back to him in the same carelessness.</p><p> </p><p>With all his children in their rooms, Edmund went to his shared room with his wife.</p><p> </p><p>Violet was awake, sitting up in bed, waiting for him.</p><p> </p><p>“So glad to see you listening to me for once,” she said, eyes not once lifting from the baby names book she’d been reading. They’d been at odds over what ‘H’ name to give their newest addition. Heather, Hannah, Hailey, Hazel, Harper…the list went on, and none of the ones suggested ever felt right.</p><p> </p><p>“I always listen to you, my love,” Edmund reminded her, shrugging off his shirt and kicking off his house slippers. “Listening is never a question. However, acting on your requests or suggestions are a completely different matter.”</p><p> </p><p>She sighed, a smile forming. “You are so cheeky, it will be the death of you. Or worse, the death of your sons. Lord know they are picking up on your rhetoric.”</p><p> </p><p>Dressed down for the evening, he slipped into bed. He pressed a lingering kiss to her neck. “My rhetoric charmed you,” he murmured into her skin.</p><p> </p><p>“Or catfished me,” Violet shot back just as swiftly. “I can never tell these days.”</p><p> </p><p>“Am I not in bed?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“You are.” Violet closed her book. She turned to him a pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Thank you. I have a hard time sleeping without you. Especially with this one,” she rested a hand against her rounded belly, “kicking around. She’s going to be a handful. I can feel it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” he sighed. “I know.” His hand rested atop of hers, feeling the movements she so claimed from their youngest. “But we’ve handled plenty of handfuls before. Look at Colin and Eloise! We can surely handle another.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet chuckled, only for a sleepy yawn to interject. “Bed. Now,” she mumbled. Sliding deeper under the covers, she shut off her bedside lamp.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Within moments he felt his wife’s breathing settle. Relieved she was getting her rest, he made a mental note to bring her hyacinths in the morning. She loved how the soft, periwinkle flower brightened their room.</p><p> </p><p>Soon he joined her, relaxed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“It’s so weird to think,” Eloise mumbled beside Anthony, “that the day before was so…<em>normal</em>. And then the next wasn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Yeah it was,” Anthony mused. He could hardly recall the day, knowing there must have not been much going on. But it’d been normal, as Eloise claimed. At eighteen….he must have been reading or playing football with his brothers on the field, or…or playing with his sisters. A normal summer day. “But I’m kind of glad it was.”</p><p> </p><p>She clutched him a bit harder after that. “Me too.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’d been a long morning, one of reminiscing and keeping composure in the face of his family. The drive back home was filled with more chatter and laughter rather than the resounding silence they left in earlier that morning. Discussions of late lunch were thrown about, Anthony remaining silent on the matter; part of his mind remained on the Bridgerton plot.</p><p> </p><p>With each year the memories of Edmund Bridgerton became less and less vivid and the weight of grief became a tad bit lighter. Anthony knew time healed all wounds, he had just not realized how swiftly time could pass or how the adage rang true when it once sounded so false upon his ears.</p><p> </p><p>Would the same happen to those he’d leave behind?</p><p> </p><p>He wanted to be alone. More than ever.</p><p> </p><p>He wanted to lay in bed and not face the rest of the world; he’d done his fair share of collective memorial with his family. His duties for the day were filled. He could skip lunch and dinner, he was positive his family would understand, chalking his reaction up to emotional exhaustion from the day.</p><p> </p><p>Upon returning to Aubrey Hall, Anthony left his family in favor of the solitude of his own bedroom. He merely nodded to a few of his other guests in passing, John and Phillip amongst them, as well as housekeeping as he made his way to his bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>Fleetingly, steadily taking the steps up the stairs, he thought of Kate. She’d been there to send him off that morning, hugging the air out of him before he left with the rest of his family. He expected her to be in her room or outside with Newton.</p><p> </p><p>Not in his room, reading his old copy of <em>Letters to a Young Poet</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Where did you get that?” fell so in-eloquently from his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Kate peered up from the top of the little book. “I thought you’d be longer.” Sitting crisscross at the foot of his bed, she untucked her legs and hopped off the bed. Her hair was pulled into a half-pony tail, no doubt an effort to keep hair out of her face; a futile effort as the same stubborn curls found their way into her face. She came up to him, the worn paperback held in both hands and clutched to her chest. “I found it—well, Newton found it—under your bed.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked back at the slim space under his bed. “Newton can fit under there?”</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled, sparing a glance to her dog. Newton laid atop his bed, snoozing away, his chubby little legs suspended up in the air lazily.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, more like he kept on trying to reach it, but couldn’t and started yipping and crying about it,” Kate amended. “So I reached under the bed and found it.”</p><p> </p><p>He blinked, confounded. While he hadn’t cracked open the book of collected letters in sometime, he could have sworn it was in his bedside table drawer. That’s was the book’s home for as long as he could remember.</p><p> </p><p>Not only that but…</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The pamphlets burned a hole into his jacket—a constant reminder. One he could not shake off or push to the back of his mind.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>It wasn’t until he was in the safety and comfort of his own bedroom in Aubrey Hall did he remove them from the inner pocket of his jacket. Anthony stared between two, about ready to leaf one open…when the tell-tale sounds of Newton’s panting and speedy feet on the hardwood floor echoed down the hall.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Without second thought, Anthony tossed the pamphlets into his bedside table drawer. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Newton, my boy,” he cried out, the pooch jumping at him and attacking with kisses.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“He heard you and went dashing up the stairs,” Kate half huffed, out of breath from chasing Newton. “How are yo—”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Her words were cut off by a kiss, Anthony unable to help himself. A desperate, firm, quick kiss, one he hoped conveyed just how much he needed her and longed for her.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>She blinked, mildly stunned. “What was that for?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I missed you,” he confessed keeping his arms wrapped around her. He pressed his forehead to hers, meeting her gaze steadily.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Her light smile turned smug, a finger jabbing into his chest. “I knew you would! Did I not say—”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He kissed her again to shut her up. “No one likes a know-it-all, Kate.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Then again…he hadn’t read the book in ages. It very well could have fallen under his bed after his last read, whenever that might have been.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Anthony breathed, eyes darting from her face to the book. Faded and worn from plenty of reads, and then plenty of reads from his father before him. A true miracle the paperback had not fallen apart at its old age and use. He cleared his throat, stepping past her into the room. “Enjoying it?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>She shut the door after him before returning to her spot on the bed. Despite his initial desire to be left in his lonesome, Anthony did not bother to shoo Kate away. He let her be as he got comfortable, kicking off his shoes and changing his stiff black jacket and button-up for one of his lighter weight gray sweaters. “Oh yes. But this isn’t my first time reading Rilke, or <em>Letters to a Young Poet</em>.” She frowned down at the cover. “It’s actually one of my favorites.”</p><p> </p><p>About to enter the bathroom to trade out his contacts for glasses, he paused. “<em>Letters to a Young Poet</em> is one of your favorites?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate nodded and pushed up her reading glasses. “Had to read it for a class years ago and fell in love with the philosophy of it all.” She scoffed, flicking through the pages. “God, I sound like Edwina.”</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled. “Philosophy is not the right word.” Anthony left his task behind in favor of sitting beside her. “‘Spirit’ I think is a better term.”</p><p> </p><p>“Agreed.” Kate turned another page, stopping at one bleeding in annotation. “But I must say this might be my favorite reading.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” He tried to read over her shoulder, Kate pulling away the second she sensed him. She hid the page to her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Because I get to read your notes.” Carefully, she lifted the book between them. “The blue fine-point pen is you.” She pointed to his scrawl along the margins. “One would think you are a fiend writing with pen in a book.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you were enjoying my notes,” he muttered by her ear, eyeing his own handwriting. By the looks of it, the writing must have been at least a decade old.</p><p> </p><p>“I said ‘one’ as in someone else, not me,” she told him, a grin tugging on her lips. “I’d be calling myself a fiend as well; I write in books too.”</p><p> </p><p>“That does not surprise me.” Any lingering tension he had within him from the morning began to ease away. Resting his chin on her shoulder he felt calm for the first time in days. “Can you read to me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Her mouth brushed his forehead in a brief kiss. “From the beginning?”</p><p> </p><p>“Please.”</p><p> </p><p>As she flipped the pages back to the front of the book, Anthony felt a swell of warmth in his chest watching her. Her nimble fingers turning the pages, the firm purse of her lips are she focused on her task, the rightness of her being beside him, with him in this moment. An overwhelming feeling of abundant affection for her encompassed him. Here she was, waiting for him after he visited the cemetery, and not pressuring him to share. She wasn’t asking him questions or probing, but simply being a shoulder to lean on—both literally and metaphorically.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony never realized how much he needed a shoulder to lean on until he leaned on hers.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate, I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?” She craned her head down at him, but otherwise poised to recite the words on the page. “Something the matter, dear?”</p><p> </p><p>His mouth went dry. For the first time in his life, Anthony found himself tongue-tied.</p><p> </p><p>She called him ‘dear’—without thinking and in complete earnest.</p><p> </p><p>No one had ever called him a term of endearment so lovingly. Not any of his fleeting flings, brief girlfriends, or even Siena.</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed. “No. No.” Anthony shook his head, sitting up. “Just…just thinking how we should sit back,” he nodded towards the head of the bed, where Newton had made himself at home, “instead of here. Be more comfortable is all.”</p><p> </p><p>Luckily she accepted his excuse, already moving over with little argument. Anthony made heed to follow her, though not without wondering when would be the right time to confess how much he loved her. Or better yet, if he could <em>ever</em> confess the true depth of his emotions for her with the uncertainty of his fate living in the back of his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps it was best he kept such feelings to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Yet every time Kate’s warm, dark eyes met his, he felt the words on the tip of his tongue.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Am I evil? YES. But you can remind me just how evil I am in the comments, mwahahahaha.</p><p>NOTES~</p><p>1. If you are someone who has ever had a health scare, then you know how wonderful doctors can be with scaring the crap out of you. But for the most part when it something that could potentially be urgent, they try to inform their patients the best they can without freaking them out too much.</p><p>2. ANTHONY WILL BE FINE. I WILL REPEATEDLY MAKE THIS A NOTE UNTIL ALL IS REVEALED HE IS FINE. LOL.</p><p>3. As mentioned in beginning notes, my fancast for Edmund is Hugh Jackman. What solidified this for me is the portrait above the fireplace in the show of Edmund kind of looks like Jackman too! 😂 And I think he also fits the book description of being tall and broad and charming.</p><p>3.5. I made the decision to not focus on the day of Edmund's death (both past and present) because I felt it wasn't necessary for our characters or their stories. What was necessary was to see the impact their father had on each of their lives and recognize, even after all this time, the space he left. There is something quietly and exceedingly heartbreaking of witnessing the moments before tragedy.</p><p>4. YOUNG BRIDGERTON BABIES. I LOVE THEM MY SWEET CHILDREN. </p><p>5. 'Letters to a Young Poet' by Rainer Maria Rilke is a short collection of letters about art, love, the creative process, but most of all, personal fulfillment. I feel like an unsure young Anthony would gravitate towards the little book. </p><p>6. I might need to make another companion fic that is just moments from this universe because I have an image of Anthony reading Daphne the next chapter of Harry Potter the night of their father's death, because Edmund promised to read her the next chapter *sobs*</p><p>7. DID KATE SEE THE PAMPHLETS? IS SHE LYING ABOUT HOW SHE FOUND THE BOOK? HMMMMMMM.</p><p>8. Anthony loves Kate. He is just too scared and dumb to do anything more about it *sighs* I promise next chapter will have PLENTY of Kanthony, Non-Bridgertons, Bridgertons, and of course--THE BEGINNINGS OF THE PARTY!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Party Prep & Blessings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here ya go! Sorry for lack of update this weekend, but hopefully this will brighten your Monday!</p><p>Typos will be fixed later!</p><p>Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no, no,” Violet violently shook her head, “the stage for the string quartet needs to move! It cannot be in front of the rose bushes—guests love those!” Turning to Kate, she passed off her clipboard and phone. “I need to go speak with maintenance. Keep those and follow the list! You’re in charge until I get back!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate glanced back down at the perfectly organized and assembled chart before her. There was a color coding system she didn’t quite understand, looking for a key break down anywhere on the page. There wasn’t one.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait! I don’t—” Violet was already halfway across the lawn, marching up to the maintenance crew putting together the portable stage. “Never mind.”</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps Anthony didn’t receive his neurotic tendencies from his father, but his mother. Violet was a woman on a mission that morning, roping any abled body she could find around the house to aid her in finalizing the details and set-up for the party. With only a few hours until six, a miracle needed to happen to have the party ready to go by the time guests arrived. One Violet was determined to make happen.</p><p> </p><p>Upon Violet’s request for help at breakfast that morning most of the Bridgertons made themselves scarce, the sneaky bastards. Meanwhile Kate, Ethan, and Penelope (who surprisingly came back in tow with Anthony, Benedict, and Colin) offered their assistance. Violet had hurried Ethan and Penelope off to pick up a list of last minutes supplies, while she had designated Kate to be her unofficial personal assistant for the day.</p><p> </p><p>An intriguing yet tiring task to say the least.</p><p> </p><p>Flipping through the pages, Kate finally found the schedule. Arrangements were meant to arrive within the next half hour as the rest of the tables and chairs were set up along with linens. She knew all these people flittering around them were professionals, yet she could not fathom how quickly a party, with the right amount of money and staff, could be thrown together. Violet Bridgerton truly mastered the art.</p><p> </p><p>“Something about you with a clipboard just looks right.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate spun around to find Anthony standing on the edge of the patio with Newton by his side. He held a to-go coffee cup in his hand, carefully holding it away from him as he climbed down the last steps to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” She lifted her head up high, eyeing him haughtily. “Why is that?”</p><p> </p><p>“You being in charge and managing people is your true form. It feels right,” Anthony explained, joining her watching the organized chaos across the lawn and garden. “I can see the gleam in your eyes. You’re enjoying this.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have a gleam in my eyes,” she shot back. Hugging the clipboard closer to her chest, she eyed the work laid out before her. She’d been following Violet around all morning, from speaking with housekeeping to catering to overseeing the table and dancefloor assembly, watching in awe as the matriarch managed the hell out of the party prep. Violet even made sure to introduce her to each employee and worker, referring to her as a family friend. “But it is a <em>little</em> fun,” she edged out from the corner of her mouth, smiling. “Violet truly knows how to organize a party.”</p><p> </p><p>By the stage, Violet chatted lively with those surrounding her, in her element as she directed the workers around her. Soon the yet to be set stage was shifted over a few yards, the rose bushes no longer obscured.</p><p> </p><p>“She was actually an events coordinator for a long time,” Anthony told her, as though letting her in on a dark hidden secret. “Stopped once Francesca was born.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate blinked. “I had no idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“Most don’t.” Anthony shrugged, scratching at the back of his jaw. A scruff was slowly building, he not shaving since before he left for town a couple of days back. He looked handsome with the facial hair, somehow older yet younger; Kate did not know this was possible until him. “She had an entire career outside of my father and yet she is often only referred to as his widow.”</p><p> </p><p>Her mouth soured. She’d been guilty of thinking Violet had no other achievements or accolades to her name besides her husband and her family and philanthropy, but to know there was more to the well-meaning mother than met the eye and no other bothered to acknowledge this irked Kate.</p><p> </p><p>“Has she ever thought of going back into event planning?” Kate asked. “She seems happy doing this.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s been over twenty years,” he said, sharing a small glance with her. “If she wanted to go back into the business, she would have already.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose…” Kate mused, not quite convinced.</p><p> </p><p>The woman in question marched back over to them, an out of breath smile on her lips. “That’s taken care of, crisis averted for now!” Violet stopped, eyes landing on her son, brightening. “Here to help?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony opened and closed his mouth. “No, no, no. Just here to see how things are coming along.” He nodded to the set-up. “It’s looking nice.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s looking like a mess, but once the linens arrive it will look nice,” Violet declared. “The lights,” she pointed to the strung, patio lights stretched across from pole to pole on the lawn, “will also add some character, of course when it is darker, that is.” She huffed, but not discouraged. “I’m excited.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad your excited,” Anthony said, slightly forced. “This was your idea, it would be bad if your weren’t excited.”</p><p> </p><p>Standing between the two Bridgerton’s, Kate felt the air turn frosty. She chewed her lips together, reminding herself to hold her tongue. She didn’t need to make a fragile and healing situation worse.</p><p> </p><p>While Anthony and Violet were <em>trying</em> to be better, and had made vast improvements over the last week, they weren’t perfect or near it. The party was a prime example of this.</p><p> </p><p>“It’ll be <em>fun</em>,” Violet said, a tad strained. “Good fun. We all deserve some good fun.” Her eyes then narrowed on him. “You need to shave. Pictures will be taken throughout the night and I will not let you have that scruff all over your face.”</p><p> </p><p>His jaw tightened. “Mother, you cannot order me to shave—”</p><p> </p><p>“So you decided to hire Michael after all?” Kate interjected speedily. “I know you were on the fence with the idea.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet hummed, sliding her sunglasses down from her head and over her eyes. Just half past ten and the sun was beginning to break through the clouds. “I did. I figured it’d be easier than trying to hire a photographer last minute, doesn’t matter how much pull our name can afford. It’d be nice to have him involved since he <em>is</em> going to be family.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s head snapped to her. “What do you mean, ‘he is going to be family’?”</p><p> </p><p>His mother laughed a little, a bit stunned by him. “As far as I am aware Francesca and John have been dating for some time and he spoke to me about marriage earlier this week.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “He did?”</p><p> </p><p>“He did <em>what</em>?” Anthony’s seething question overlapped hers, eyes violently latching on to his mother. “How long have you known? Why am I barely finding out about this now?”</p><p> </p><p>Violet sighed, lightly rubbing at her temple. “He and I spoke when you were gone on Wednesday. I gave him my blessing, but told him it’d be best if he spoke to you as well. After all, you were as involved in raising Francesca.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony softened, looking away from his mother to Newton. The dog sat on the ground, happily panting in the breezy air. “Thank you. That’s kind of you.” He gave a sharp clear of his throat and loosened his shoulders. “But he hasn’t spoken to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Clearly,” came Violet’s exasperated reply. “As kind and quiet as he is, he’s a bit spineless.”</p><p> </p><p>Neither Kate or Anthony could argue, small mutters of agreement from both.</p><p> </p><p>“If all goes as planned, tonight’s gathering may turn into an engagement party.” Violet brightened, a small giddy smile forming. “It’d be nice to have one seeing as Daphne and Simon did everything so….” Her nose wrinkled and lips pursed. “…so non-traditional.”</p><p> </p><p>“How so?” Kate asked. She’d been curious about Daphne and Simon’s relationship and engagement; she took Whistledown’s tweets with a grain of salt and all the obscure mentions through out her stay only piqued her intrigue more. “I know Daphne proposed.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet huffed. “She proposed, yes and had the big wedding, but she didn’t have long engagement, only a few months. None of the parties in between, like the engagement party, the bridal shower, or the bachelorette party. Then the rehearsal dinner was a disaster—”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t think it was <em>that</em> bad,” Anthony cut in, a faint flush consuming him.</p><p> </p><p>“It was a disaster,” Violet reiterated. “I don’t want to get into it. Then Daphne wanted to make her own wedding gown, working herself to the bone. She was haggard most days leading up to the wedding.” She shook her head. “At least with Francesca I know she’ll do everything by the book.”</p><p> </p><p>“May I remind you John still hasn’t spoken to me on the matter,” Anthony told her. “And my sister is not going to get married to a man who doesn’t at least <em>try</em> to ask for my blessing.” He scoffed. “Simon, who wasn’t even talking to me at the time, asked for my blessing on the engagement with Daphne after the fact.” He shrugged, mouth set in a determined line. “It’s the least John can do.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate turned to him, chuffed. “Do you need to approve <em>all</em> your siblings relationships?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like to.” He smirked down at her. “That’s grand coming from you.”</p><p> </p><p>She rolled her eyes. “I have one sibling. Singular. It makes sense.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have seven,” Anthony shot back, head tilted down to her tauntingly, “seven brothers and sisters, so you can imagine the intensity of what I feel to be <em>seven</em> times what you feel.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve noticed you have this need for one upmanship—”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I am correct and rarely wrong—”</p><p> </p><p>“I beg to differ on multiple accounts,” Kate said before he could continue his nonsense.</p><p> </p><p>Just as Anthony opened his mouth to argue otherwise, Violet cleared her throat.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you done?” his mother asked, brisk. “Or are you going to help set-up for the party?” When Anthony didn’t answer immediately, Violet tutted. “As much as I love you and care for you, I don’t want you distracting Kate all day with your schoolyard flirting, so <em>go</em>.” She waved him off.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony opened and closed his mouth, a deep flush spreading across his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>Kate smothered a snort, attempting to hide it as a cough.</p><p> </p><p>No one was convinced.</p><p> </p><p>Deciding not to respond to his mother, Anthony sharply turned to Kate. He held the coffee cup out to her. “I actually brought this for you. It’s why I came over here. I know you didn’t get a chance to grab something caffeinated before she dragged you into work.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” she smiled, oddly touched by the gesture. She accepted the coffee. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded once, licking his lips and chewed them together. He began to lean a tad towards her…Then his eyes drifted to his mother.</p><p> </p><p>His mother who was watching them with a keen eye.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony cleared his throat and nudged Newton with his foot. “I’ll see you two later then. Newton and I have a walk to get to.” Without further remarks, he urged Newton along, the two heading towards the path to the lake.</p><p> </p><p>Violet sighed. “Now that he is gone, I want to introduce you to more of the staff.” She motioned for Kate to follow her as she trekked down towards where the linens service arrived. Making sure to not spill her coffee, Kate hurried along after her.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t until she was half listening to a conversation about eggshell and mint linens did Kate notice the little note written on the side of her paper to-go cup.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>For my dearest friend xx</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>If she weren’t pregnant, Daphne would be right in the fold of planning and running around with her mother in party-prep mode, but the moment she suggested the idea she was met with protests from both her mother and husband.</p><p> </p><p>She already pushed herself with field day, they didn’t need any close calls.</p><p> </p><p>So she did the next best thing—</p><p> </p><p>“Ow!” Hyacinth cried out, Daphne nearly yanking the brush through the girls messy chestnut waves. “You’re pulling!”</p><p> </p><p>—styling each and every single individual in the house, from hair, make-up, and attire.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you ever brush your hair?” Daphne asked, sectioning off another piece over the teenagers shoulder. “I swear, every single time I do your hair I am walking into battle.”</p><p> </p><p>“Brushing hair simply takes up too much time I don’t have,” Hyacinth argued, nose held up in the up air.</p><p> </p><p>“Because you are <em>so</em> busy,” Eloise muttered from the settee adjacent. Her feet were propped up on the ottoman before her, she flicking through one of Daphne’s many bridal magazine’s with disinterest. She’d been with Phillip and the children for most of the morning, before popping into Daphne’s room for refuge.</p><p> </p><p>Upon seeing both Hyacinth and Eloise in his and his wife’s room, Simon up and left without even pretending to find an excuse for his departure.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth tried to turn to Eloise only for Daphne to push her back. “Sit still, Hyacinth.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll have you know I am <em>very</em> busy,” the girl declared, glaring hard at Daphne and Eloise through the mirror. “I have summer pre-course work, a wager to maintain, as well managing all of mine and Gregory’s plans.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Plans</em>?” Eloise raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean <em>schemes</em>? Evil, devilish schemes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Would you call strategically having Penelope and Colin sit next to each other at nearly all meals something so degrading as a scheme?” Hyacinth huffed. “That was an orchestrated plan.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise rolled her eyes. “They’d find a way to sit next to each other without yours or Gregory’s apparent subtle intervention.”</p><p> </p><p>“How about Kate and Anthony, then?” The girl tried again. “Gregory and I were the ones who placed Kate next to Anthony at dinner that first night!”</p><p> </p><p>Shooting up from the settee, Eloise stalked over to Hyacinth and Daphne, glaring down at the girl. “You cannot take credit for whatever is happening between Anthony and Kate because of some stupid seating arrangement! If anyone should get credit it is <em>me</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne nearly dropped the brush. “You?” A laugh of disbelief bubbled out her; truly, her sisters were outrageous. “What do you have to do with Anthony and Kate?”</p><p> </p><p>A smug smile formed on Eloise’s lips. “I’m the one who wanted to introduce Kate and Anthony eons ago. Edwina and I both. Except Anthony met Edwina first and thought she was the one I wanted him to meet. So if anyone should get credit, it’s me.”</p><p> </p><p>Both Daphne and Hyacinth’s jaw dropped.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise preened at their shock. “Yes, I have been quietly playing this game for the long haul—”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony could have met Kate sooner and you never did anything about it?” Daphne asked instead, wielding her brush up to Eloise’s chin. “You never thought to correct him on this matter?”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t my place to correct,” Eloise shrugged, “I thought Edwina would, but then she didn’t…” She cringed. “But all’s well now! Sort of…” She shrugged again, perhaps not entirely convinced by her own words.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth turned back to the mirror and nudged Daphne to continue. “I don’t think it counts.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne hummed, finishing off her brushing. “I agree. It doesn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise groaned, leaving the two in favor for the settee and ottoman once more. “Oh, whatever,” she grumbled. Reaching over to the side table, she picked up the box of chocolate biscuits she snatched from the kitchen. She proceeded to shove two biscuits at once into her mouth, chewing noisily.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne frowned, but didn’t say anything, more concerned with twisting Hyacinth’s messy hair into a pretty, blue flower pinned, fishtail braid. The girl could not sit still for an curls or irons of any sort, Daphne not even bothering to try at this point.</p><p> </p><p>As she came to the end of the braid, her bedroom door flung open. Benedict entered the room with little greeting and plopping himself down beside Eloise.</p><p> </p><p>He tried to reach for a biscuit, only to be met with a slap of the hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t share my food,” Eloise scolded through a mouthful. “You know that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t hurt to try,” he muttered.</p><p> </p><p>“What brings you here, brother?” Daphne asked. She left Hyacinth in favor for ransacking several of her vanity drawers for more hair ties and ribbon.</p><p> </p><p>He successfully snatched a biscuit from Eloise, leaping away as she was ready to smack the theft treat away from him. “Ethan is out running errands for Mother with Pen and Anthony is off on one of the trails with Newton, undoubtedly hiding from Mother.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne looked up from the drawer, dubious. “So you came here to…?”</p><p> </p><p>“To help,” he shrugged, taking a bite from the biscuit. “Provide assistance.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hide from mother?” Eloise suggested knowingly.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict pointed to her, nodding once. “That too. She’s scary right now. Marching around and directing everyone.” He shuddered. “I don’t know how Kate is doing it, following her around and helping.”</p><p> </p><p>“Takes a boss-bitch to know a boss-bitch,” came Eloise’s sage mumble. “That’s why. Kate can handle <em>it</em> because she is <em>it</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“So eloquent.” Finding the ribbons she needed, Daphne shut the drawer. She rounded back to Hyacinth’s side. “What do you study again?” she drawled.</p><p> </p><p>“Linguistics.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” Daphne tutted; she tied off the ribbon in Hyacinth’s hair with deft fingers. She patted Hyacinth’s shoulder, then reached around her for the girl’s make-up bag. “The study of language,” she mused, “and you use it <em>so</em> well, sister.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise scoffed, offended. “I’ll have you know it is not as simple as it sounds.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am sure—”</p><p> </p><p>The bedroom door opened again, this time Colin popping his head into the room. “It’s a party in here!”</p><p> </p><p>“God, no,” Eloise groaned. She flopped length wise on the settee, face smothered into the deep blue cushion.</p><p> </p><p>He entered, taking the nearest seat in the armchair beside the vanity. “Hello dear siblings! Been a while since we’ve all seen each other, hasn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>The deadpan stares of the room must have unsettled him, a nervous chuckle escaping  Colin within seconds. He looked at Daphne and Benedict for help. They were the only two, besides Anthony, really talking to him at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>The younger siblings—Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth— for the most part avoid him upon his arrival back at Aubrey Hall, knowing Eloise was still not entirely happy with Colin in regards of the ‘Penelope-of-it-all.’ Wisely they’d chosen to remain moot on the subject, no doubt more fearful of Eloise than their brother.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise, of course, had ignored him for the last two days. Even at the cemetery and throughout the sixteenth, when they were all ordered by Anthony to be <em>civil</em> and <em>kind</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Naturally, the order was followed loosely by the two standing-off siblings.</p><p> </p><p>Watching the two Benedict shrugged, providing no help at all, and took a seat at the ottoman. He snatched up another biscuit, Eloise none the wiser. Daphne simply resumed applying light foundation on Hyacinth’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“I uh, I was actually looking for Eloise,” Colin tried again, leaning back into the chair, hands clasped together over his knee. He looked like a nervous child about to face the wrath of a parent. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for the last two days but you keep on disappearing or—or well ignoring me whenever I try.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne carefully swiped mascara on Hyacinth’s eyelashes, the girl quietly grumbling. She shushed her little sister, keeping one eye on Colin, who kept sinking in on himself the longer Eloise did not speak.</p><p> </p><p>“I know…I know we are still not on the best terms and I want to talk. And fix that. Because you are my sister. And Pen’s best friend—”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise shot up from the settee, short, choppy hair a mess and flopping into her face. Hasty hands brushed the strands out of her hair, she standing up to her full height and holding her chin up high. “Oh? <em>Now</em> you acknowledge she is my best friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin winced. Then gulped. “Yeah. She’s always been your best friend—”</p><p> </p><p>“And yet you felt the need to fuck her—”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne quickly applied blush across the apple of Hyacinth’s cheeks and shoved her out of the vanity chair. “We’re done! Got get changed—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s two o’clock!” Hyacinth yelped, Daphne pushing her along out the door. “The party doesn’t start until six!”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t care!” Daphne ignored the daggers glared at her, her youngest sister looking on the verge of tantrum. “Go get changed and don’t come back for an hour!”</p><p> </p><p>Annoyance consumed Hyacinth, a childish ire striking through her sharp eyes. “An <em>hour</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne slammed the door shut and locked it. She spun back around to her siblings with a disapproving from. “<em>Seriously</em>, Eloise? Couldn’t you have waited until Hyacinth left?”</p><p> </p><p>Her words went in through one ear and out the other, Eloise already crossing the room to Colin. “You are a Bridgerton man! You can have any woman you want and you choose <em>my</em> best friend—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Because I love her</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>The room stilled. All eyes on Colin.</p><p> </p><p>Hands slapping over her mouth, Daphne refrained a squeal. She was utterly delighted for her brother, but also terrified for his well-being considering Eloise stood less than a foot away from him.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict, on the other hand, had no such refinement.</p><p> </p><p>He chortled.</p><p> </p><p>Both Eloise and Colin’s eyes snapped to him.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, but this is golden entertainment,” he wheezed. “Best I’ve seen these last few days.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne growled at him, marching over to her brother, and hitting his shoulder until he stood up. “<em>You</em>! Go grab me your best clothes and I’ll decide what you are wearing tonight!”</p><p> </p><p>“Daph—”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” She shove him on the arm again, Benedict not moving an inch. “Go and come back! I cannot have you looking like an artist slob at the party! Mother would kill me and you.” She wasn’t wrong and they both knew it.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” Sighing, Benedict listened and ambled out the door, but not before taking the rest of the biscuits with him.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne once again shut the door and locked it.</p><p> </p><p>“You love her?” Eloise asked, softening. Yet her hands remained clenched, as though ready throw a flying fist at a moment’s notice “You really, <em>truly</em> love her? Daphne wasn’t exaggerating then when she said you went to go confess your undying love?”</p><p> </p><p>Colin look at Daphne, aghast. “Do you really need to blab about my private life to everyone?”</p><p> </p><p>She wined. “Just us. And Anthony. And technically Kate too…” She shook her head. “Never the matter. You two just keep talking,” Daphne insisted, remaining by the door and away from them. “Pretend I am not here.”</p><p> </p><p>The matching looks of annoyance sent her way didn’t deter her, Daphne remaining put. Perhaps both knew it best to not be left alone with each other, needing a moderator of things got too aggressive. And Daphne believed herself to be an <em>excellent</em> moderator.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, El,” Colin’s conviction startled Eloise, she taking a step back. “I love, Pen. I think I always have…I—I just never thought I could be with her the way I wanted. That she was too good for me—”</p><p> </p><p>“She <em>is</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin didn’t shy away from her lashing, instead nodding in agreement. “She is.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s the best thing in the world and I don’t want you to ever fucking forget that,” Eloise declared, chin set low as she stared down Colin. She swallowed tightly. “You…you are my brother. Probably my favorite third brother,” Colin smirked at the half-joke, “but Pen…Pen is my sister by choice.” Eloise sniffed, yet remained dry eyed, not about to be overwhelmed with emotion. “I’m the one who has chosen to protect her. <em>Me</em>.” She pointed a rough finger to her chest. “And I have since we were kids. Her family doesn’t see how amazing she is, so I make sure she knows all the damn time and…and this,” she waved between she and him, “this whole situation with you and her and me lying about Phillip, fucked it all up.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Colin said solemnly. “That’s why I followed her and apologized. She’s giving me a second chance. We’re really together and happy…” He sat up fully, being mindful of Eloise’s defensive stance. “And I was hoping you’ll give me another chance? At being a better brother?”</p><p> </p><p>Nose starting to run and eyes red, Eloise gave a watery scoff. “Of course I’ll give you another chance! You’re my brother! You get an infinite number of chances because I care about you, you nitwit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” he breathed out, relieved. “That’s good.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise rolled her eyes. “And thank you…for…for fixing your part in this mess.” A tired sigh left her. “Now I just need to fix mine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pen loves you, Eloise,” Daphne blurted out, tired of seeing her sister so distraught. “She does,” she continued, coming over to her sister and wrapping an arm around her. “Yes, you two have had a major falling out, but I have never known two better friends. Like you said, she’s your chosen sister.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pen misses you too,” Colin added, standing up. “She’s said so. But she’s like you—she doesn’t know how to fix this. One of you needs to be the brave one and extend an olive branch because I don’t like seeing either of you like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me either.” Daphne squeezed Eloise’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“You know what,” Eloise grinned innocently at the two, “I’m going to go find her right now—”</p><p> </p><p>“No you don’t!” Daphne exclaimed, pushing her sister down into the vanity chair. Grabbing the hairbrush, she quickly brushed though Eloise’s choppy locks. “We only have a few hours before the party and I still need to do your hair and make-up, not to mention Francesca’s, Kate’s, and Pen’s—”</p><p> </p><p>“Plus Pen isn’t even on estate grounds,” Colin reminded her. “You’ll be able to talk to her at the party. I’ll make sure of it.” He crossed his heart for good measure.</p><p> </p><p>“And you!” Daphne pointed at him with her brush. “Show me what you are wearing tonight!”</p><p> </p><p>Colin groaned. “Daff—”</p><p> </p><p>“There will be pictures tonight and plenty of people we know and <em>don’t</em> know—we need to all look bloody fantastic!” She shooed him away before turning full force to Eloise. “I’m thinking a headpiece—”</p><p> </p><p>“No!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, <em>yes</em>!”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean she’s <em>not</em> coming?” Violet asked into her phone, thoroughly panicked. “You’re a <em>four</em> string quartet—you need a fourth string.”</p><p> </p><p>Looking up from the seating chart and name cards laid out before them, Penelope and Ethan shared a look. They’d witness Violet hash out orders and lead the staff in an expert fashion, not once compromised or stressed under the daunting task. She was so calm and collected throughout the day, she even sent off Kate for a short break, the girl promising to bring back tea for everyone.</p><p> </p><p>“I understand your celloist is currently in surgery,” Violet said kindly, attempting to mask her upset. “I also understand our event was last minute, but our families have been friends for decades. A Smith-Smythe performance is…” She pinched her nose, attempting ease and honesty in the compliment she spun out, “…is a <em>memorable</em> performance. But I specifically hired you because I thought your sister would play the cello—”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope withheld a snicker, schooling her features when Ethan sent her a curious glance. It was well known amongst their circles The Smith-Smythe family, while kind and well-known, were not the most talented bunch. Sure most of the women could hold a decent performance, well enough for there to be a dance, but they all relied on the cellist to lead the pack. The talented young lady was able to make their group sound spectacular, all following her to keep up and be in tune.</p><p> </p><p>The Smith-Smythe girls without the cellist was….horrid to say the least. Pen could attest, attending several of the family’s recitals throughout her life.</p><p> </p><p>“If your sister believes the replacement will be adequate enough then who am I to argue?” Violet remark politely, yet her tense jaw and pursed lips told another story. “Thank you again. See you then.” The phone call ended, Violet dropping her phone on the table with a thud. She resumed her work with placing the name cards on their corresponding tables.</p><p> </p><p>“Everything alright?” Ethan asked lightly.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing too bad, just unexpected,” Violet answered. She squinted at the card placements before, not looking at them, but <em>through</em> them. “The Smythe-Smith’s cellist girl broke her arm this afternoon.”</p><p> </p><p>Pen’s eyebrows jumped, panicked for the poor thing. “Iris broke her arm?”</p><p> </p><p>“She’ll be fine,” Violet waved off. “It’s her left arm, not her right. Her bow arm is fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Both Ethan and Penelope relaxed at this news.</p><p> </p><p>“It just left the Smythe-Smith girls in a dither in regards of tonight. But worry not, they found a replacement, Iris’s second chair when she went on that tour some years ago.” Violet frowned, finger taping her chin as she made a seating switch on her chart. “Rosso something or other…Honestly I stopped listening once she said they had a replacement,” huffed a chuckle. “It think I’ll have Danbury and her grandson sit with us…I think Gareth is only a couple of years older than Hyacinth. Someone she can talk to tonight…” she muttered most to herself, completely unaware of how still Penelope went, nor how Ethan’s eyes widened.</p><p> </p><p>Ethan’s brows pinched, speaking perhaps without even realizing the gravity of the question. “Rosso as in—"</p><p> </p><p>Penelope pinched his bicep. Hard.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ow</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Violet paid no mind to them, humming to herself as she picked up a stack of name cards and left for one of the table.</p><p> </p><p>Once she was a good few feet away, Penelope whirled on Ethan. “What the hell were you thinking?” she hissed up at him.</p><p> </p><p>Ethan rubbed his arm, scowling sadly at her. “You pinched me!”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you were about to blather something <em>very</em> secretive to Violet,” Penelope argued, arms pin-straight at her sides as unease settled into her bones. This was not good. Not good at all. “I don’t know how much Benedict told you, but she doesn’t know about Siena!”</p><p> </p><p>Ethan bright green eyes widened even larger, jaw unhinging the slightest. “How does she not know?” he asked, dropping his voice lower as a member of the decorating team came running past. “I thought Anthony was going to run off with her—”</p><p> </p><p>Pen shook her head. “She knew Anthony was running off, Violet just didn’t know with <em>who</em>. No one told her because it was irrelevant.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not irrelevant now!” Ethan surveyed their surroundings, spotting Violet who still remained at her table for the night, arranging and rearranging the cards. As if it would matter, Hyacinth would sit where she pleased with no care of name card placements. “We have to tell someone,” he sighed, rubbing at his neck. “We have to tell Benedict and he can tell Anthony or, maybe—” Color drained from his face. His gaze remained locked over her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Penelope followed his line of sight.</p><p> </p><p>Her gut swooped.</p><p> </p><p><em>Kate</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She was making her way over to them, dark curls bouncing with every speedy step, the woman never wasting an ounce of time. Her hands were full, holding a few to-go mugs of tea in her hand. Before she could make it any further to them, she was roped into a conversation with Violet.</p><p> </p><p>“You cannot say a word to her,” Penelope insisted, nudging Ethan to look at her and not at Kate. “Not a word. Kate doesn’t need to know about Siena. Who she is or anything about that disaster.”</p><p> </p><p>Ethan’s face twisted in pain. “Penelope, she has to know. Maybe not who she is, but at least know one of Anthony’s ex’s is going to be here tonight. Kate is <em>kind of</em> his girlfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope sighed; he had a point. She’d never want to willingly lie to Kate’s face or even Anthony’s, caring deeply about both, but at the same time…at the same time, this would be an <em>interesting</em> situation.</p><p> </p><p>Worrying her lips together, she considered their options.</p><p> </p><p>She could tell Kate one of Anthony’s ex’s would be there that night—specifically the ex he nearly ran away with a few years back. Kate would be bothered, but Penelope could not picture the woman lashing or throwing a fit at anyone, least of all Anthony. Able speaking her mind clearly, Kate knew how to hold her own.</p><p> </p><p>Or….</p><p> </p><p>She could <em>not</em> tell Kate about Anthony’s ex and let events unfold.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps Kate wouldn’t be bothered in the slightest, with Anthony on her arm.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps Kate already knew about Siena, after all she and her Bridgerton seemed to share nearly everything under the sun with each other. She could already know about the woman and not care.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps she did know and wanted to share a piece of her mind—this here sounded a lot more like Kate. Maybe Siena would be willing to participate in a catty exchange of words for few to catch wind of during the party.</p><p> </p><p><em>Perhaps</em>….</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps there were far too many possibilities for drama and scandal for Penelope to let this opportunity slide by.</p><p> </p><p><em>Lady Whistledown</em> needed the hits, retweets, and comments. News had been slow this summer and her tweeting game had been down due to her own personal affairs.</p><p> </p><p>She knew what she had to do…</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t tell her,” Penelope told Ethan, “or him. Kate might or might not already know about Siena. We don’t know. It is not our place to cause issues where there aren’t any.” She shrugged, hands clasping together tightly. “For all we know, Anthony and Kate are so besotted with each other, the brief possible appearance of Siena will mean absolutely nothing.” Sparing a glance over her shoulder, she spotted Kate resuming her trek to them, holding up the tea she had for them giddily and with smiles. “Ignorance can be bliss, Ethan.” When he frowned, eyes dimming, Penelope squeezed his shoulder. “Please, just don’t say anything, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, shoulders straightening from their slump. “I won’t tell Kate or Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope patted his arm. “Good!”</p><p> </p><p>“I come bearing caffeinated gifts,” Kate announced joining the two within moments. She set the to-go cups before them, proud of herself. “And good news! Violet says we are no longer needed and are to get ready for the party.” Hands clapping together, she turned to Penelope, eyes apologetic. “In other news, Daphne says you are up first and she has her curlers on and waiting.”</p><p> </p><p>Picking up her tea from the small tray, Penelope smiled. She liked when Daphne did her hair and make-up, always making sure she looked lovely and nice. The eldest Bridgerton girl wanted everyone to look and feel their best, Penelope included.</p><p> </p><p>“Then off I go!” Penelope declared.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait up,” Kate called after her, grabbing her tea in a hurry, “I’ll walk with you!” She bumped her shoulder with Ethan’s. “Save a dance for me tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know I will. ” Ethan raised his tea in cheers, Kate tapping their cups together. “The only trouble will be getting you out of Anthony Bridgerton’s arms. If he had the choice, you’d be there forever,” he teased.</p><p> </p><p>Kate laughed, yet the mirth did not reach her eyes. “That’s silly.”</p><p> </p><p>“But true,” he shot back.</p><p> </p><p>“But still silly,” Kate insisted, a terse edge to her tone. “I’ll save half my dances for you.” Her light humor returned in full, she grinning up at the man like he was a long lost friend.</p><p> </p><p>“And only leave half for Benedict?” Ethan asked, mockingly stunned. “That hardly seems fair.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’ll leave him wanting more!” Kate’s full chuckles garnered attention from some of the passing staff. She coughed, embarrassed, coving up her laughter terribly. She made a hasty goodbye to Ethan and jogged up to Pen’s side, deftly not spilling any of her tea in the process.</p><p> </p><p>Her arm looped through Penelope’s, like old friends or sisters would, and began leading her along.</p><p> </p><p>Kate had a habit of leading when she walked, a trait Penelope wasn’t too sure she admired or detested at the moment. The woman’s legs were simply longer than hers, a brisk walk the norm for someone like Kate, but not for Penelope. As though sensing this, the taller woman slowed a fraction, then slowed her pace even more so as they came up upon the patio steps.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m excited to see the dress Daphne picked out for you,” Kate said, her steps now matching Pen’s speed. “When she insisted on dressing all of us, I’d been surprised.”</p><p> </p><p>“But that’s how Daphne is,” Penelope said, “she likes to make the world as beautiful as she sees it.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate paused, as though deeply considering Penelope’s words. A gentle smile formed, her sharp and clever eyes softening. “That is such a lovely way of putting it. You truly have a way with words, Pen.”</p><p> </p><p>“I try,” she chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>“You should say them more often. Such considerate words are meant to be shared,” Kate insisted, reaching for the mudroom door. She opened the door, nodding for Penelope to go first. “After you, Pen.”</p><p> </p><p>Walking back into the house, Penelope chewed on the inside of her cheek. Why did Kate always have to be so nice? Why did she have to speak so openly from the heart? It made Penelope’s decision taste all the more sour in her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>She’d never been one to manipulate events around her. Observe and share what she had seen from the sidelines, as the uninteresting wallflower she knew how to be. Despite all the information sent her way, Penelope only ever posted information she could vet for herself; never tell a lie, only observations and commentary.</p><p> </p><p>But <em>this</em>…letting Kate go into a possible conflict blind, letting Anthony step into a party and see Siena when it seemed everything was going right with Kate…Penelope knew this wasn’t right.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate, I—” The confession remained lodged in her throat.</p><p> </p><p>Kate turned to her, curious, unaware of the sudden turmoil filling her friend. “What is it, Pen?”</p><p> </p><p>“I—I cannot wait to see what Daphne picked for you too!” Penelope said instead, beaming. “I am sure you will look marvelous.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s too kind of you.” Kate shook her head, once again leading the way through the house to the main stairway. “But thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Her kind smile made Pen’s gut lurch.</p><p> </p><p>God, why did she have to be such a coward.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>From his study window, Anthony watched the cars arrive in the round about driveway. Several guests climbed out of their cars by the aid of the valet, he spotting familiar faces in the sea of gowns and suits.</p><p> </p><p>He stared down at his untouched glass tumbler of brandy on the windowsill. Before a party he’d usually have a glass to loosen up, never fond of the social gatherings but playing the part well enough. He knew how to flick the switch on to being the dashing and dominating Bridgerton in the crowd. Same as his brothers.</p><p> </p><p>Eh, sort of.</p><p> </p><p>To be fair, he wasn’t like Benedict or Colin who naturally found their footing in these social circles. Anthony knew what was expected of him, followed the etiquette, and stayed for as long as deemed polite before taking his leave. Even if the party was taking place in his own home. At a Bridgerton party, something always went wrong or amiss, Anthony knowing it best to flee before becoming a witness to events, or worse—<em>involved</em>.</p><p> </p><p>However, he found he did not crave his usual choice of liquid courage. Or anything alcoholic for that matter. The pamphlets in his bedside table drawer scarred him enough to not touch any alcohol for at least month. Or at the very least until he heard back from the neurologist.</p><p> </p><p>He’d been hoping Kate would have been ready sooner so he wouldn’t be in his lonesome while entering the party. Unfortunately this was not the case, she still in Daphne’s clutches when he showed up at her room.</p><p> </p><p>“Give me twenty more minutes!” Daphne hissed, shoving him out the door. “She’ll meet you in your study!”</p><p> </p><p>That had been ten minutes ago.</p><p> </p><p>Cracking open the study window, Anthony gently tipped out the contents of his tumbler into the bush below. A terrible waste, but one he was willing to take to dash away the unease he felt at its sight.</p><p> </p><p>A knock sounded on his study door.</p><p> </p><p>“Come in,” he announced, setting the glass back on the windowsill. He doubled checked his wrist watch, smirking. “Only twelve minutes! That must be a new record for Da—”</p><p> </p><p>He looked to not find Kate.</p><p> </p><p>Instead a rather nervous looking John Stirling stood before him. Sweat glistened off the poor young man’s forehead. He tugged on his tie at least three times since being in Anthony’s presence.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, god.</p><p> </p><p>John was going to ask for his blessing. <em>Now</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The Lord might as well smite him then and there.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello John,” Anthony greeted, edging away from the window to stand behind his desk. “Wasn’t expecting you there.”</p><p> </p><p>John hummed, shifting from foot to foot. “It’s fine.” He retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket, patting down his forehead and neck. The handkerchief came back soaked.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony winced.</p><p> </p><p>“How are you, Anthony?” John asked, stepping further into the room. He hovered by the armchair, not taking a seat. “We haven’t been able to talk much…”</p><p> </p><p>“Hardly at all,” Anthony remarked, keeping the desk between them. A silent reminder of who had the power here. “I’ve held longer conversations with Michael than with you, who is dating my sister.”</p><p> </p><p>“Michael is better with people,” John muttered, for once not sounding like he was going to wet himself. “Always has been, always will be. More charismatic.” There wasn’t disdain in his voice, like Anthony expected, but awe. “As our mothers’ like to say, Michael can attract the friends, but I’m the one that knows how to keep them,” he chuckled, cringing after a moment. “The mothers say it kinder than it sounds,” he tried to assure.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure they do.” Mothers had a way of making the oddest comments sound kinder than they were.</p><p> </p><p>Clearing his throat, John stood taller. “I think we both know why I am here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let us not make fools out of either of us; how about you state clearly why you are here?” Anthony countered. He wanted the young man to explicitly state his intentions, no half-assed, half-implied, half-spoken requests.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like your blessing to ask Francesca to marry me.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony expected a swoop of annoyance or aggravation.</p><p> </p><p>Except all he felt was regret.</p><p> </p><p>Regret because he knew this was the man Franny would marry, who’s family she’d join. She liked John, had been with him for years, and was a young woman who liked to go by the book. She had ambitions and goals, marriage undoubtedly one of them.</p><p> </p><p>He felt regret because after all these years, he was just starting to get to know his sister as a person.</p><p> </p><p>And now she was going to get married.</p><p> </p><p>Logically he knew this would not cease their forming bond. He and Daphne were still close, her marriage to Simon perhaps bringing them closer. But with Francesca it was different.</p><p> </p><p>Part of him felt like he never did enough for her; he’d forgotten her so many times as the years carried on. He knew his father would have been disappointed to learn how easily Francesca slipped through the cracks. Anthony wanted to do better for his sister.</p><p> </p><p>Agreeing, giving his blessing, would be doing better for his sister.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have a ring?”</p><p> </p><p>John blinked owlishly. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony could not help his exasperated sigh. “Do. You. Have. A. <em>Ring</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you giving your blessing—”</p><p> </p><p>“Answer the question.”</p><p> </p><p>By John’s growing wince, Anthony knew the answer, the poor bloke having no need to open his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“I do, it’s just I accidently left it in Scotland and had my mother ship it over. But it hasn’t arrived yet…”</p><p> </p><p>Refraining from reprimanding him for sending his engagement ring through the post, Anthony marched over to the lower, embedded cabinet adjacent to his desk. He opened the cabinet doors, several locked safes lined up beside each other. He stopped at the closest one, keying in the safe’s code—Benedict’s birthday.</p><p> </p><p>A thud sounded, the safe door unlocking. Anthony quickly opened it and pulled out a long case. Making his way back to his desk, he motioned John to come closer.</p><p> </p><p>“My mother expects you to propose tonight,” Anthony told him, blunt and to the point. “You can pick any of the Bridgerton rings to use as a stand in for the time being.”</p><p> </p><p>He opened the case, several ring boxes carefully laid out inside. Anthony made haste and opened as many as he could, laying them out to John.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, uh—thank you—”</p><p> </p><p>“I just don’t want you to propose without a ring.”</p><p> </p><p>John gulped. “Right.” He stared hard down at the assortment before him. When John didn’t immediately gravitate towards the few set out, Anthony resumed his digging.</p><p> </p><p>Picking up a blue velvet engagement ring box, Anthony opened it—</p><p> </p><p>And stopped.</p><p> </p><p>The rings were Bridgerton heirlooms from women of the past. Most from decades before his and even his father’s time, truly classified as antiques and looked as such. All the other rings he laid out were heavy and fussy, ornate to some degree.</p><p> </p><p>However, the one in his hand was not.</p><p> </p><p>Nestled inside the blue velvet cushion sat a simple ring. A gold band with a single round-cut diamond.</p><p> </p><p>Looking down at the simple, beautiful ring Anthony could only picture it one hand.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s.</p><p> </p><p>“Is something the matter?” John asked. “Do you think the one you have will be good?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony snapped the box shut and shoved it into his inner jacket pocket. “Not, uh, that one.” He did not think on the ring again, resuming his hunt for John.</p><p> </p><p>He plucked a leather box out of the case. Inside sat a white gold ring, with an art deco design and emerald cut. He recognized the ring as his great-grandmother’s, she often photographed with the diamonds in clear sight. A perfect engagement ring for a party such as this, one to garner attention and buzz. Anthony silently passed the box to John.</p><p> </p><p>“This is it. This will do,” John breathed, relaxing. Closing the box, he tucked into his pocket. “Thank you so much—”</p><p> </p><p>“You will propose to her tonight,” Anthony reminded him, starting to pack up the rest of the rings. “I will not also have the addition of a disappointed mother on my hands.”</p><p> </p><p> “Right. Right. Got to do it tonight.” John nodded, his sweating and heavy breathing returning. His wide, panicked eyes latched on to Anthony. “Do you have any advice?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony frowned. “I’ve never been married,” he deadpanned.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” his face scrunched, slapping his hands to his face, “I knew that. My brains a mess.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sighed, biting the corner of his mouth—god, he needed to be nice, didn’t he? “Be sincere and the right words will come,” he advised, hoping to assuage the young man. John was a nervous-wreck and needed all the help he could get, not to mention in desperate need of a wardrobe change with all his sweating.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you’ve never been married.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony put the last ring away and latched the case closed. “Doesn’t mean I’ve never proposed.” With that said, he placed the rings back in the safe, locking them back up as if they were never touched in the first place. “Why don’t you change your shirt? I’m sure Daphne is still upstairs reigning terror. She’ll find you something fresh and pressed.”</p><p> </p><p>Luckily John accepted this suggestion, hurrying out of the room with another hasty goodbye after him.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony closed the cabinet, hoping perhaps he wouldn’t need to aid anyone else in ring selections any time soon.</p><p> </p><p>“Why does poor John look like he took a rather heated swim?” Kate’s question drifted from the study’s entrance. “He’s drenched in sweat. What did you do to him?”</p><p> </p><p>A huff escaped him, Anthony smirking before he could stop himself. “Why do you assume <em>I</em> did something?” He turned away from the cabinet to her.</p><p> </p><p>Air knocked out his lungs, never to return.</p><p> </p><p>He’d never been stuck so hard by the sight of a woman. Never once in his life had he experienced the all drowning and bursting love, adoration, and lust he felt at the sight of Kate.</p><p> </p><p>She was an absolute vision he wanted to experience forever, until his last breath.</p><p> </p><p>Deep green silk laid gently on her body, the plunge of her neckline far too inviting, her delectable warm skin calling out to him. Her usual dark ringlets were styled into larger waves, her once shoulder length hair becoming seemingly longer and draped elegantly along her bare shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>He wanted to get lost her. To lock the door and stay with her in his study than attend some stupid party.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Kate hissed. Her indifference vanished, her straight shoulders slouching ever so slightly. “I know it’s too much,” she motioned to herself, “I told Daphne I’d look ridiculous—”</p><p> </p><p>“You look beautiful,” Anthony cut in, eliminating the distance between them in a few quick strides. “You <em>are</em> beautiful. The most beautiful…”</p><p> </p><p>When she ducked her head away, he caught under her chin, Kate matching his gaze. An uncommon bashfulness flashed in her eyes, her lips twisted to the side. Then her confidence returned in tenfold, the menacing, teasing glint in her eyes making his knees go weak.</p><p> </p><p>He began to lean into her, only the press of her hand on his chest stopping him once he was a breath away. “Daphne will kill me if my make-up gets ruined. She did spend a great deal of time—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s nose nudged against hers. “I don’t care.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I do.” She pulled away. Her hand slipped from his chest in favor for grasping his right hand. “Your mother worked hard putting this together last minute and your sister went through all the work of styling everyone—”</p><p> </p><p>“Because Daphne is too much like Mother and wanted to be involved in any way she could,” Anthony chimed in unnecessarily.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Kate tugged on his hand, pulling him to follow her as she took a careful step back. A miracle considering she was the farthest thing from graceful. “But we should enjoy this. Have fun,” she shrugged, “I feel like maybe everyone needs a little fun right now after this last week.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right,” Anthony conceded, following after her. In one swoop, he stole a quick kiss from her lips. A small gasp escaped her, Kate’s hand smacking his chest in retaliation. He laughed at her attacks, catching her hand in his. He pressed a firm kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll only have fun if you are by my side the entire night.”</p><p> </p><p>“There is no where else I’d rather be.”</p><p> </p><p>Satisfied with her unspoken promise to be at his side, hand in hand Anthony led her out of the study for the party.</p><p> </p><p>He believed nothing could go wrong when she was there on his arm.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>FAMOUS LAST WORDS. MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.</p><p>Some Notes~ </p><p>1. I wanted to jump into the party, but knew I had some bases to cover pre-party. NEXT CHAPTER IS ALL PARTY and we are going to get some fun POVs!!! Love to hear your guesses in the comments!</p><p>2. Colin and Eloise have made up! Yay! And Eloise is determined to talk to Pen at the party! Do I sense sweetness AND drama? 👀</p><p>3. Did I purposely make Siena a cellist ALL THOSE CHAPTERS AGO FOR THIS ONE UPCOMING STORY ARC? WHY YES I DID. This party arc has been in the making since the beginning!</p><p>3.5. THE SMYTHE-SMITHS. I am actually going to start reading the Smythe-Smith Quartet soon!</p><p>4. We finally have Pen's POV and an acknowledgement she is WHISTLEDOWN! </p><p>5. JOHN'S GONNA PROPOSE. AHHH.</p><p>6. Did y'all see where Anthony put the ring?????? Dear readers please remember where this ring is tucked away as we move forward 👀👀👀👀</p><p>7. Yes, I cannot wait until I see Simone Ashley as a goddess in jewel tones! Cannot wait to see the queen be flawless, so I must make her such in this fic.</p><p>8. On another note...I added another fic to the 'Say It' series! "We've Both Been Here Before" will focus on missing moments from the series that don't fit the larger plot of the stories in this universe. The first chapter is the night after Edmund's passing, as it was requested as a oneshot a few times last chapter (and yes, if you drop suggestions into the comments on both 'We've Both Been Here Before' and 'Leave a Voicemail; Then Erase It' I MIGHT JUST WRITE THEM 👀</p><p>Anyways....Let me know what you think! :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Dancing With Strangers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here is the chapter y'all have been waiting for.... ahhhh!</p><p>Some Mood Music? Vitamin String Quartet's covers of:</p><p>- Dancing With a Stranger<br/>- Mine<br/>- Thinking out Loud<br/>- Just Dance<br/>- Memories<br/>- Sucker<br/>- Bad Romance<br/>- Blinding Lights<br/>- I Caught Myself<br/>- Check Yes Juliet<br/>- Fade Into You<br/>(If you follow the playlist on Spotify, the songs are all together towards the end.)</p><p>WARNING: Discussions of infertility, depression, cancer, and toxic relationships.</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Any fantasy Hyacinth conjured at the thought of large lavish parties, one’s she only ever heard of from her siblings but had never quite seen for her own eyes, were just that--</p><p> </p><p>Fantasies.</p><p> </p><p>Because as it turned out, parties with her mother were dull, excruciating, and required far more small talk than Hyacinth believed herself capable.</p><p> </p><p>And of course, the introductions.</p><p> </p><p>So. Many. Damn. Introductions.</p><p> </p><p>“This is my youngest, Hyacinth.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. and Mrs. Ashby have you met Hyacinth?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hyacinth, this is one of my old university friends, Diane. Doesn’t she look just like me at that age?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hyacinth, this is Lauren. She actually nannied for us for a few years after you were born. Hasn’t little Hyacinth grown so much?”</p><p> </p><p>From guest to guest, Hyacinth was dragged along by Mama and forced into pleasantries. She had to fake smile and pretend to be interested in whatever new recipes people were trying after watching that year’s <em>Great British Baking Show</em> and what new job their children or niece or nephew or even grandchildren were doing now.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth didn’t give a damn about anyone surrounding them, yet her mother had made her the unofficial ‘co-hostess’ for the evening.</p><p> </p><p>She could barely catch a moment alone with the tidbits and hors d'oeuvre display, shooing her mother off while she tried to get her fill of sustenance.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, her siblings ran around the party like madmen. They whispered into each other’s ears and conspired together all evening. All without her.</p><p> </p><p>From across the sea of people flittering around the outer tables, Hyacinth spotted Eloise hurriedly whisper into Francesca’s ear. Her blue eyes widened, head snapping from Eloise to the stage.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth followed their line of sight.</p><p> </p><p>On stage four women played subpar—not terribly, but a true adequate, pleasant tune. Hyacinth recognized three of the girls, the unfortunate Smythe-Smith’s, the substitute cellist unfamiliar.</p><p> </p><p>She frowned. Why would her sisters be so consumed with the happenings of a string-quartet who were playing Ed Sheeran’s <em>Thinking Out Loud</em> on a loop for the last ten minutes?</p><p> </p><p>Upon looking back at her sisters’ table, she found their chairs empty. Go figure.</p><p> </p><p>Nose wrinkled, she proceeded to shove lobster toast and avocado into her mouth. “Assholes.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Who</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth nearly leapt out of her skin.</p><p> </p><p>Wiping at her face for any avocado remains, she spun to her left to find a young man beside her. He looked just as thrilled to be there as her. He was tall—not as tall as her brothers, but taller than her—and incredibly handsome, in the sweet yet earnest way. His warm, caramel skin and deep brown eyes did <em>something</em> to her….something Hyacinth certainly did not like. <em>At all</em>.</p><p> </p><p>But what threw her off inexplicably was his accent.</p><p> </p><p>He was American.</p><p> </p><p>“Who are you?” Hyacinth blurted out.</p><p> </p><p>His eyebrows jumped, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t see how that is relevant to the question.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is relevant because I do not gossip with strangers.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you gossip to your friends?”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth shrugged a shoulder. “Doesn’t everyone?”</p><p> </p><p>He snorted. He bit his lips together a fraction of a second later to hide it, but the deed had been done. “Then let’s be friends,” he offered. Apparently sensing her stubborn apprehension, he amended his statement. “At least for the evening. You seem to be the only other person near my age here who isn’t attached.” Both took a moment to scan the party. Most of the demographic was thirties and older. Anyone younger was already married, or attached as he so claimed. Not to mention most of the younger guests were her siblings and their partners (or soon to be partners in some of their cases). “And as much as I love my grandmother and would love to be by her side…I can sense she is on a scheming streak tonight,” he explained, fondness shining in his deep, dark eyes. “She claims all Bridgerton parties end with scandal and drama and wants to have a front row to the chaos.”</p><p> </p><p>She held her tongue, bristling at the statement because unfortunately he wasn’t wrong. Her family’s parties did end up a catastrophe because her older siblings did not know how to keep their tempers nor emotions in check, acting in passion instead of thought. Or they were simply stupid and wanted a laugh, in Colin’s case.</p><p> </p><p>But most of all, this (handsome, very handsome damn it) young man (who could not be more than a year or two older than her, really) had no idea who she was—a first for the night. A breath of fresh air.</p><p> </p><p>“What if I am <em>also</em> scheming tonight?” she asked, gauging his reaction. “Would you be opposed to being roped into a scheme since you are so keen to run away from your grandmother’s?”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes slid down to meet hers, a glint of mischief behind them. “I like to imagine I am decent judge of character. I had a feeling you were up for your own brand of scheming when I spotted you from across the room.” He turned to the table behind them, picking up a small glass of lemonade for himself and then passed one off to her. “It’s difficult to look away from a vision in blue. Especially one who looks like she’s concocting the next great escape.”</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t know how to respond to him. She’d never been so blatantly flirted with before. Sure, boys her age tried to woo her and had the habit to shoot their shot once they learned her surname. After all, who wouldn’t want to be attached to a <em>Bridgerton</em>.</p><p> </p><p>But this was different. She didn’t know how it was different. But it was different.</p><p> </p><p>Because he was clever. And witty. And he could sense she was too.</p><p> </p><p>“Hyacinth,” she offered haughtily before taking a sip of her lemonade. “My name is Hyacinth.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gareth,” he said, his charming, sweet smile returning. “See? We aren’t strangers anymore.” He sipped his lemonade, surveying the room once more. “So who are the assholes?”</p><p> </p><p>Her smirked morphed into a scowl. “My siblings.”</p><p> </p><p>He winced. “Siblings have a way of doing that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mine are the worst sort,” she explained.</p><p> </p><p>An absurd high pitch drawl of a viola cut through the party. Kinder party-goers, such as Anthony and Kate, continued dancing despite the terrible music while other’s shuffled off to the outskirts of the dancefloor to mingle.</p><p> </p><p>“How are they still dancing?” Gareth wondered aloud, nodding lightly to her brother and his not-girlfriend. “They didn’t even flinch.”</p><p> </p><p>“They're in love,” Hyacinth drawled out. “They just don’t know it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah,” he mused. “One of those.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah,” Hyacinth found herself chuckling. “My eldest brother is an idiot when it comes to her. My siblings and I have a wager going on when they’ll get married.”</p><p> </p><p>“That sounds like fun,” he told her, setting down his glass. “Betting on people’s lives.”</p><p> </p><p>“It can be,” she insisted. “Just need to know how to rig the system is all.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you rig the system?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course!” She beamed devilishly. “I am in charge of the wager. I get a cut not matter who wins.”</p><p> </p><p>He smirked, amused by her. “Smart.”</p><p> </p><p>She hated he found her amusing; there was nothing amusing about her. “I like to think I am,” she quipped, tone clipped.</p><p> </p><p>If Gareth noticed, he didn’t say anything, his disposition unwavering.</p><p> </p><p>More couples left the dancefloor as the string quartet took a sour note. Not even the substitute cellist was doing well, dropping notes here and there. Honestly, her mother was too kind to hire the Smythe-Smiths. Or desperate. Possibly both. Thankfully when the quartet were to have their breaks, a DJ would replace them for the time being.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to feel bad for those poor girls.” Gareth turned to her, hand held out. “Let’s dance.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Hyacinth felt her gut drop. She shook her head. “I don’t dance. I don’t even know how to waltz.” All her siblings had gone through the etiquette courses her mother liked to shove down their throats, but Hyacinth. It was as if when her time came to learn and becoming ‘a lady,’ her mother had already given up. Not that she blamed Mama—she raised seven children, Hyacinth the delightful surprise and godsend wrapped in one. She got away with the most.</p><p> </p><p>However it was these moments (though rare and nonexistent until this charming young man stood before her) that made her wish she stomped her way through etiquette classes like the rest of the Bridgertons.</p><p> </p><p>Mischief returned to Gareth in tenfold. “Who says were waltzing?” He leaned close to her ear. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t know jack-shit about a waltz.”</p><p> </p><p>Before she could respond, he snatched her hand and dragged her to the dancefloor.</p><p> </p><p>In one grand swoop, he spun her out and spun her back in, catching her before she could crash into his chest. “Now this,” he grasped both her hands, lifted them over their heads, and led her in a matching under the arm spin, “is dancing.”</p><p> </p><p>“This is twirling!”</p><p> </p><p>“Which is dancing.”</p><p> </p><p>“We aren’t even on beat.”</p><p> </p><p>Facing her again, grasping her hands once more in a mock waltz stance. “<em>They</em>,” he nudged his head to the stage, “aren’t even on beat. We are doing them a favor.”</p><p> </p><p>Her giggles betrayed her. “We are. They should send us a fruit basket after this for our efforts.”</p><p> </p><p>He laughed, and Hyacinth’s heart soaring at the sound.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, god, she <em>hated</em> how her heart soared.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Who the hell is Hyacinth dancing with?” Colin asked the moment he found Benedict.</p><p> </p><p>“I think Danbury’s nephew? Or grandson?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict squinted at the pair. Hyacinth was laughing—and not evilly. But laughing, like she was having fun. A rare sight. Benedict recalled being introduced to the boy, only to be dragged away by Ethan moments later. His mother didn’t complain, tittering on about ‘young love’.</p><p> </p><p>However he did not have time to be flushed or annoyed by her remarks as Ethan blurted out a rather troubling problem.</p><p> </p><p>Siena Rosso was at the party. Performing as a substitute cellist for the Smythe-Smiths. A party where Anthony was to be at—no, <em>hosting</em>. Anthony, even if he never wanted to admit, was technically hosting the party as owner of the estate despite leaving all the hosting duties to Mother.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict did not know what caused the woman to agree to substitute for a party at Aubrey Hall—she must have known what she was stepping into. He wanted to know <em>why</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She and Anthony had not been in contact for over two years. <em>Why show up now</em>? Why now when Anthony was finally figuring his shit out and falling in love with a wonderful woman they’d all like to see him marry one day.</p><p> </p><p>Then there was the <em>other</em> problem with this matter—Benedict, besides Simon, was the only other person who knew Siena and had met her in person. While the siblings gossiped to their partners about the ‘Anthony nearly running away with a cellist named Siena Rosso,’ no one technically knew who she was, except for he and Simon.</p><p> </p><p>This meant sending which ever sibling he could reach on a harrowing game of telephone, hoping in God’s name they’d spread the word to their family <em>accurately</em> and without gaining too much attention.</p><p> </p><p>All the Bridgerton’s and those associated (sans Mother and Hyacinth; this was not their concern) needed to be a united front for Anthony, and adjacently Kate. Which meant keeping him and Kate far away from encountering Siena in any ways possible.</p><p> </p><p>They didn’t need a blow-out or a fight or….or anything for Whistledown to catch wind about.</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t matter who Hyacinth is dancing with,” Benedict rolled his eyes, “she’s having fun, distracted, and out of our hair.” He observed the once again filling dancefloor, spotting Anthony and Kate swaying and talking to each other. They were lost in their own world, as always. “Do you think he’s noticed who’s playing the cello?”</p><p> </p><p>Colin frowned, eyeing the couple as well. “In all honesty, no.” He chewed thoughtfully on an éclair. Benedict was positive the dessert table was not open yet, but that would not stop his brother. “Anthony has hardly looked away from Kate all evening.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not surprising, really,” Colin continued to gab, “but Siena has slipped up a shit ton.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict winced and took another sip of his wine. “I know. I heard.”</p><p> </p><p>More than half the party was aware of the cellist’s slip ups, as well as the rest of the quartet’s less than stellar playing. They were doing worse than usual. Not to mention Siena looked like she was ready to snap her bow in half each time she glanced over at Anthony and Kate.</p><p> </p><p>When the song ended, sighs of relief consumed the party. The quartet broke apart, apparently taking their first break of the evening. A different young woman came up to the stage as the players descended, and stood behind the sound system set up. Contemporary, upbeat music played low from the speakers.</p><p> </p><p>Siena was now amongst the crowd.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict suppressed an exhausted groan. It was now show time. “Remember—be on the lookout. Be aware. Make sure Anthony and Kate are always tog—” Speak of the damn devil. “<em>Anthony</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>His older brother seemed to pop up out of nowhere, a relaxed grin from his time with Kate still on his face. “I have been wondering where you two have ran off to all evening,” Anthony said in leu of greeting. “I have something important to discuss—”</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Kate?” Colin asked, both he and Benedict noticing the woman was not on their brother’s arm.</p><p> </p><p>“She got hungry,” Anthony waved off. “I swear, that woman is bottomless pit when it comes to food. She’s almost as bad as you,” he quipped to Colin. “Anyways—”</p><p> </p><p>“Shouldn’t she be here with us?” Colin pressed. “Or you know what? I’ll join her. I am famished—”</p><p> </p><p>“You have an éclair in your hand,” Anthony reminded him, sharp. “She’s a grown woman. She can handle getting food on her own,” he told his brother in increasing annoyance. Whatever sereneness Anthony possessed prior to joining his brother’s vanished. His inherent grumpiness and moodiness resume without missing a beat. “As I was saying, I have an important matter to discuss with you two,” he paused, glancing around at the party-goers surrounding them, “come with me. We should talk in private.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony bypassed them, heading up to the patio overlooking the party.</p><p> </p><p>Sharing concerned glances, Benedict and Colin hurriedly followed Anthony up the patio steps. Once they were somewhat secluded by the glow of the swimming pool and the fairy lights of the party, Anthony faced his brother’s, stern.</p><p> </p><p>“This party is going to turn into an engagement party tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict felt his eyes bulge.</p><p> </p><p>Colin’s jaw dropped. “<em>You’re proposing</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s sharp frown dispelled the notion. “No! Why the hell would I propose—”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, I get it. You and Kate are perfect together—”</p><p> </p><p>“Shush!” With a frantic wave of his hands, Anthony silenced Colin’s ramblings. “Kate and I aren’t getting engaged. We’ve barely even started seeing each other,” he admitted, eyes still screwed shut in exasperation of their younger brother. “Why would you leap to that conclusion?”</p><p> </p><p>“No reason,” Colin squeaked out. “Just if you do, wait until maybe autumn?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict refrained from smacking Colin upside the head. Damn him for trying to plant ideas to win the wager the family had going on Anthony and Kate. If any of the other siblings caught wind of him doing this, he’d surely be dead.</p><p> </p><p>Shaking his head, Anthony attempted to regain his composure. “As I was saying, before so rudely interrupted,” his side glare to Colin did not bother the man in the slightest, he preening at the attention, “this is going to turn into engagement party.”</p><p> </p><p>“For who?” Colin asked, taking a brief scan of the party.</p><p> </p><p>“Francesca,” Anthony breathed out, looking a little weary. “John is planning on proposing to Francesca tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>John is planning on proposing</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>All three Bridgerton men froze.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly the three turned to the house’s back entrance, spotting Francesca standing in the doorway, less than five feet away. She held a small over the shoulder pack, one Michael often carried around when he was taking photos around the estate; the bag would have undoubtedly fall to the ground if it hadn’t been slung over her shoulder. Their young sister stood stalk-still, jaw unhinging the slightest, and face as white as sheet.</p><p> </p><p>In all honesty, she looked like she was about to tip over and pass out.</p><p> </p><p>“Franny—” Anthony began.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean he’s going to propose?” she asked, sounding hollow. “I—I don’t understand.”</p><p> </p><p>The brothers shared a concerned glance. Usually when couples were going to engaged, both were on the same page. At least, they were hopefully on the same page.</p><p> </p><p>By the looks of Francesca, she and John were not.</p><p> </p><p>“He, uh,” Anthony started to look at Colin and Benedict for help, before thinking better of it. He face Francesca fully, confidently, and every bit the commanding older brother he was—Benedict was relieved he never had to assume the role Anthony managed so well. “John asked both Mother and I for our blessing to propose. To ask for your hand in marriage.”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca blinked rapidly, lips pulling into a tight purse. “That was…kind of him. I’d want that from someone if they planned to propose.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict brows furrowed, he edging the slightest closer to her. “Then what’s the problem Franny? I thought you love John. You’ve been with him for some time—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s—” She shook her head, color slowly returning back to her cheeks. “It’s nothing. You three wouldn’t get it.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Anthony ordered, stopping her before she could flee down the patio steps. “You are going to tell me what the matter is. I am not going to let you get engaged if there is something wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca paused, eyes darting between the three. When none of the brothers made an effort to leave, genuinely concerned for their sister, she huffed. Stepping away from the stairs, she turned to them, coming closer into their circle. “I…” She swallowed tightly, gaze dropping down to the pack resting against her side. “I…I don’t think John is proposing because he wants to marry me. I think…I think he’s proposing because I might not…” Francesca restlessly shrugged her shoulders, looking away from the pack, then to all their faces. She stopped at Anthony, looking smaller than she’d ever been. “Because I might not be able to have kids in the future. Birth children. My own children.”</p><p> </p><p>The air between the four went thick. No one knew what to say.</p><p> </p><p>“Why—why didn’t you say anything Franny?” Anthony asked quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Because…” Francesca huffed, her usual composure crackling away. “Because sometimes we have our own silent battles we don’t want to share, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>Her words cracked like a slap. Anthony’s big brother act was crumpling before them, her words ringing far too true for him. Benedict wanted to wrap them both up in a tight hug an never let them go. Colin fared no better, his own stricken expression melting into a sadness he rarely possessed.</p><p> </p><p>“I know, Franny,” Anthony croaked. “I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“No—you three don’t understand,” she waved off, not willing to listen. “I told John about it because that’s what you do as a healthy couple. You talk about the bad stuff, even if it hurts. Like infertility,” she rolled her eyes, poorly attempting to brush off the seriousness of the matter, “but now he is proposing and…it doesn’t <em>feel</em> right. It sounds like he is trying to do the right thing, and I don’t want that.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict knew he should offer some help. “Then maybe you should tell him—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not getting engaged tonight.” She stepped back, resolute. “I’m not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Francesca—” Anthony started after her.</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head. “Please. Don’t tell anyone else. Let’s keep this between us—my issue, I mean. I don’t want our sisters knowing. Or worse, Mother.” Shame shadowed over Francesca; for once Benedict saw a side of her he’d never seen before—a young girl, one who perhaps longed for something she believed she could never have. “I have to go give this to Michael,” she motioned to the pack, “please, do as I say. I never ask any of you for anything.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s deep frowned warned of an argument, yet no fuss or rationalizations came. “You have my word,” he said, solemn. “I will not say anything to anyone. I promise Francesca.”</p><p> </p><p>Relief weighed upon her, Francesca’s expression easing into her normal indifference.</p><p> </p><p>Sharp blue eyes then slid to Benedict and Colin, warning, ordering, and begging them to follow Anthony’s lead.</p><p> </p><p>“I promise,” Benedict muttered, meaning the swear.</p><p> </p><p>“Me too,” Colin added a second later. “We won’t say a word, Franny.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinking rapidly, she nodded, and gave a tight smile. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>When she hurried down the stairs, none of the brothers made and effort to stop her. They needed to let her go; Francesca was one to fight her own battles, avoiding proposals included.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” Colin breathed out. “So much for an engagement.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict and Anthony turned to him, stoned face.</p><p> </p><p>“What? We were all thinking it!”</p><p> </p><p>Without bating an eye, Anthony smacked Colin in the back of the head. “Learn to read the room!” Their older brother stormed down the stairs, in a foul mood.</p><p> </p><p>Quick to follow Anthony, Benedict took the time to pause when he bypassed a wincing Colin. “There is such a thing as not sharing every little thought in your head. It’s called a <em>filter</em>. Look into obtaining one, brother.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin merely scowled and stalked after the two.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Bustling past her three older brother’s as they came down the patio steps, Eloise nearly tripped on Anthony’s foot. She flipped him off in haste, before continuing her chase.</p><p> </p><p>“You know you cannot avoid me all night!” Eloise declared only three steps behind Penelope.</p><p> </p><p>Well…she <em>would</em> be three steps behind Penelope if her friend didn’t have the advantage of a fit-and-flare formal dress while Eloise had to stomp around in her ankle length lavender gown. She swore Daphne loved to make her life difficult in anyway she could, the dress and flimsy bow-headband-majigy all assaults against Eloise’s dignity.</p><p> </p><p>Her stupid headband flopped in her face again. For the thousandth time that evening.</p><p> </p><p>Huffing, Eloise ripped the atrocious lavender ribbon out of her hair and dropped it on the closest table. She ignored the indignant gasps from the table, scurrying after her friend who seemed determined to march away from her.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m like that <em>Death Cab for Cutie</em> song ‘I will follow you into the dark’!” Eloise cried out, elbowing a few guests out of the way as Penelope continued to flee around the perimeter of the party. There were only so many places her dear friend could attempt to escape and Eloise knew them all like the back of her hand. Penelope stood no chance, not to mention she’d eventually get tried.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually.</p><p> </p><p>Before Eloise, at least.</p><p> </p><p>Her friend was about to disappear into the fray of chatty guests at the refreshment table and bar. Once she got over there, all hope would be lost because both Portia Featherington and Eloise’s own mother were there talking up a storm with other guests as they got their fill of nibbles and hors d'oeuvres, and of course, wine. Their mothers would surely press their own noses into their daughter’s problems and the last thing Eloise needed with either her mother’s or Portia’s opinions.</p><p> </p><p>God, she sneered at the idea.</p><p> </p><p>Hiking up her skirts, Eloise made for a mad dash—</p><p> </p><p>To trip and fall flat on her face.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily, she collided with the dancefloor rather than the grass and her skirts remained clean and untarnished, if not only wrinkled. Her chin however, throbbed like a bitch.</p><p> </p><p>“Has anyone taught you how to run in a dress and heels, young lady?”</p><p> </p><p>Twisting to her side, Eloise found Agatha Danbury studying her like she was the greatest disappointment to humankind.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, Mrs. Danbury,” Eloise greeted with false brightness, “how are you this lovely evening?”</p><p> </p><p>Danbury scoffed, nudging Eloise with her cane. “Fine, until some nitwit girl in lavender decided to trip over my cane. Like I asked before, has no one taught you how to run in a dress and heels?”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise refrained a scowl, chewing her lips together. Her mother would skin her alive if she was the tiniest bit rude to Danbury; the woman had been a family friend for ages. The Bridgerton children often joked she was older than time itself, Simon even claiming he had no idea his godmother’s age. She was a mystery to the world, and Danbury liked to remain that way. Eloise could respect that—if she hadn’t more than once been on the receiving end of Danbury’s cane-trip trick.</p><p> </p><p>Withholding any grievances or biting remarks, Eloise gave the older woman a blithe smile. “Sadly, no. None of my family has a penchant for running. With or without heels and dress.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pity.” Danbury harrumphed. “One would think a smart girl like you would figure it out by now. Or at least look before she runs.” The older woman placed both hands atop the handle of her cane, staring down at Eloise. “If you want to speak to your friend, don’t dash around like a fool. Be goddamn woman about it.”</p><p> </p><p>A scoff did escape from Eloise and she did not regret it a bit. “Be a <em>woman</em> about it? What the hell does that mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Walk up to her and say what you need to say,” Danbury stated plainly. “Stop making a ruckus like a child. I have been to enough of these to know your friend hates attention. What you are doing is making perhaps an unfortunate tiff worse.”</p><p> </p><p>When Eloise did not answer, Danbury smirked.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise pushed herself up, slowly and wobbly standing back up to her feet. Guests milled about her with little acknowledgement, expecting commotion from a Bridgerton, most of all <em>her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Now dust your gown off,” Danbury instructed with the wave of her cane, “walk—<em>not run</em>—walk to your friend and talk to her. No need to be heated and impassioned from your exertion. No one needs that. A woman holds her ground and speaks.” Holding her head up high, Danbury gave a sharp nod in departure. “Now, excuse me, I need to see if my grandson and your sister are hitting it off. Might I say, they’d make a lovely pair one day.” Far too pleased with herself, Danbury moseyed away, her cane twisting in a small twirl as she made her way back to her table.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling as though she’d been properly scolded, Eloise did as told.</p><p> </p><p>She dusted off her gown, stood tall, and walked over to Penelope—who luckily stayed on the outskirts of the refreshments, more keen on observing the dancefloor.</p><p> </p><p>Once a wallflower, always a wallflower.</p><p> </p><p>“Pen,” Eloise began, taking a stance beside her friend. “I want to talk to you.”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope’s jaw tightened; she remained silent.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d…” Eloise glanced between Pen and the dancefloor. Not many were dancing, the string quartet taking their break. Yet that did not stop some, like…“Is that Hyacinth?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Pen confirmed, “she’s been dancing with Danbury’s grandson for most of the party.”</p><p> </p><p>“How…interesting?” Eloise wasn’t too sure what was more startling—a boy was interested in Hyacinth, or the fact Hyacinth had yet to harm said boy. Her sister did not have the best track record when it came to the those of the opposite sex. She had a terrible habit of dressing them down, shooting them down, and embarrassing them by any means necessary without really trying.</p><p> </p><p>Pen shrugged a shoulder. A cold shoulder. “I suppose.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise’s eyes narrowed on her friend. “I want to apologize.”</p><p> </p><p>“For what?” Penelope asked, blinking up innocently at her.</p><p> </p><p>But Eloise knew better. This was an act—no, a challenge, a test.</p><p> </p><p>She wanted to know if Eloise <em>really knew</em> what she was apologizing for, or if she was just apologizing for the sake of apologizing.</p><p> </p><p>Penelope wasn’t an idiot, and Eloise never took her as such.</p><p> </p><p>“For lying. For saying what I said about you and Colin.”</p><p> </p><p>“What <em>did</em> you say about me and Colin?”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise snapped to her, done trying to play nice.  “For fucks sakes Pen—”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope whirled on her as well, head held high as she matched Eloise with a chilling stare. “Say it. Tell me what you said and why you said it—”</p><p> </p><p>“I said—<em>fuck</em>—I said you and Colin would be terrible together. That it was an unfair and an uneven match. That it made no sense,” Eloise gritted out, pained.</p><p> </p><p>The moment replied in the back of her mind for days. Every day since that morning at Bridgerton Field Day. She hurt her friend and that wasn’t even her intention—or maybe it was, because Eloise was in pain and upset about Phillip and it felt nice, a fleeting stupid vindictive kind of nice, to hurt someone else too. And that person just happened to be Penelope, the closest and easiest target.</p><p> </p><p>Pen blinked, tears welling then disappearing in a flash. The girl wasn’t one to succumb to tears in private with just the two of them, least of all at a party. “You said that because you thought I wasn’t good enough for your brother—”</p><p> </p><p>“No, damn it!” Eloise scoffed, voice growing hoarse. “I said it because Colin isn’t fucking good enough for you!”</p><p> </p><p>Whatever else Penelope was going to say vanished, she staring gob-smacked at Eloise.</p><p> </p><p>This was it. Eloise had to woman-up. She had to speak. And <em>mean it</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She reached for Pen’s hands, holding them in her own. “Pen, I love you. I love you so much—hell, I love you more than Phillip. But don’t tell him that, his ego is fragile enough right now as it is.” A small giggle bubbled out of both of them, almost in unison. “I love you so much, no one is ever going to be good enough for you. Not even my stupid idiot brother who—who <em>adores</em> you. Probably always has but was too pigheaded to see it until now.” Eloise heaved a breath, nowhere near done. “I love you so much, that—that your my person. My soulmate. And I got so upset because how dare my brother take my soulmate away from me!”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope laughed, open and teary. A sight not even Eloise had the privilege to see until then. “He’s not stealing me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know that now!” Eloise scoffed, shaking her head dramatically. “I just thought…you're mine and I don’t want to share you.” She felt pathetic yet empowered admitting how much she cared for her friend.</p><p> </p><p>“How do you think I felt?” Pen asked, gripping Eloise’s hands just as tight. “You started becoming distant and then this Phillip came into the picture and then…then you were all about being with him, and in his world and the world you two were creating together… and I felt like you were leaving me in the dust.”</p><p> </p><p>“I would never leave you in the dust,” Eloise insisted. “I just…I never met someone who understood me like Phillip.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s how I feel about Colin.”</p><p> </p><p>Both stared at each other, feeling like they were finally on the same page—</p><p> </p><p>No, they felt <em>better</em>.</p><p> </p><p>They finally felt like <em>Eloise&amp;Penelope</em> again.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you too.”</p><p> </p><p>The girls threw their arms around each and clung together in a fierce hug. Swaying side to side in each other’s arms, all was forgiven in a heartbeat. All felt right in the world for the two best friends, and the troubles of men weren’t going to change them or their friendship, because at the end of the day Eloise would always have Pen, and Pen would always have Eloise—neither no longer in doubt of the other’s love.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>From the opposite end of the party, standing at the edge of the dancefloor, Michael zoomed in on Eloise and Penelope.</p><p> </p><p>He clicked his camera, capturing the candid of the two embraced.</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect,” he muttered to himself, pleased.</p><p> </p><p>He was positive they’d want a copy of that one.</p><p> </p><p>As he lifted his camera for another picture, he felt a familiar tap on his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Michael didn’t spare John a glance, focused on his photography duties. “What is it, John?”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you seen Franny?”</p><p> </p><p>“Besides from when I sent her off to get my camera case?” Michael asked. “No. She’s probably with one of her siblings or cousins or something,” he shrugged. “All I know is she has yet to return from the mission I sent her on.”</p><p> </p><p>John huffed. “Fine. When you see her, tell her I want to talk.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ooo, <em>talk</em>?” Michael teased. “A good talk or bad talk?”</p><p> </p><p>“A talk-talk,” John insisted, rubbing his sweaty palms on his trousers, “not good or bad, just important. Life altering important.”</p><p> </p><p>Michael snorted, adjusting the levels on his camera. “Careful speaking that way, someone might think you are about to offer the girl marriage.”</p><p> </p><p>John didn’t laugh.</p><p> </p><p>In fact, John didn’t say anything at all.</p><p> </p><p>Michael tilted his head down at his cousin, utterly confused as realization donned upon him. “You are not…<em>are you</em>?” he asked, afraid to phrase the full question.</p><p> </p><p>“And if I am?” John shot back. “I know you and Franny are close but…” He adjusted his tie, the fabric still not laying straight and flat despite his best efforts. “But I’m her boyfriend and I love her and I want to do the right thing—”</p><p> </p><p>Oh god, his cousin was an idiot. “Is this about her eggs having an early expiration date?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would you say <em>it</em> like that?” John hissed, face burning bright red. He’d never been great when it came to topics of sexual and feminine matters. When the Mothers openly spoke about their menopause and odd symptoms John was quick to flee the room while Michael listened with rapt interest. When sex scenes occurred while they were watching a film, John hid his face behind the popcorn while Michael watched on without flinching or flushing or even batting an eye. The same could be said of anything of the gory nature as well. John was simply squeamish, always had been and probably always would be. It was unfortunate he was acting the same when it came to his girlfriend’s reproductive health. “And she told you? About her problem?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course she told me,” Michael half scoffed. “Franny and I have no secrets. And don’t call it a ‘problem,’” he grumbled, attempting to meet John’s gaze. A trick task considering his cousin’s gaze remained train on the ground. “Calling it a problem implies something is wrong with her. Nothing is wrong with her.”</p><p> </p><p>John sighed. “Franny might not be able to have her own biological children if she doesn’t act now—and you say there is nothing wrong? She wants to have children—”</p><p> </p><p>“Eventually,” Michael reminded him. “She <em>eventually</em> wants to have children. My god, she’s twenty-two. She has her whole life ahead of her—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then why did she tell me about this if she didn’t want me to do something about it?” John asked.</p><p> </p><p>Michael shrugged, rapidly growing exasperated with his dear cousin. He loved John, he did, but sometimes it felt like he had to spell things out for the younger man. “I don’t know? Maybe because you are in a relationship and being honest about this kind of stuff—like the status of someone’s health—is important in a romantic relationship?” He clucked his tongue. “I don’t think she wanted you to solve her problem with marriage or try to fix it. Maybe she simply wanted to share the burden with someone who loves her and who she loves back.”</p><p> </p><p>Done with the conversation, Michael lifted his camera up to his eye level, spotting the Bridgerton brothers huddled together in a heated discussion. Just as he was prepared to take the photo, John tapped his shoulder again.</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, lulling his head to the side to look at his cousin. “Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“When did she tell you?” John demanded, quiet and stern. “When did Franny tell you about her prob—” he stopped himself, working his lips to say more appropriate phrase of words, “her fertility status?”</p><p> </p><p>Michael turned back to his camera. “That’s not important—”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>John was serious, and Michael could not lie to him. “Months ago,” he answered vaguely.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve known longer than me?”</p><p> </p><p>“She didn’t know how to tell you,” Michael was quick to defend. “You have to put yourself in her shoes,” he insisted. “She was probably scared and nervous—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Here we go again</em>,” John muttered, shaking his head lowly. A weariness nestled itself in the man, he looking back at Michael with disappointment. “Michael, I love that you and Franny are close. You’re practically best friends, but—but <em>I’m</em> her boyfriend. I’m the person she should be telling first about these types of things—”</p><p> </p><p>“Well you make it impossible to open up about the tough stuff, damn it,” Michael said, instantly regretting the words.</p><p> </p><p>John faltered. “I know…I know I am not great with…with the bad stuff. I don’t like thinking on the negative.”</p><p> </p><p>“You need the negative to have the positive,” Michael intoned.</p><p> </p><p>His cousin kicked at the grass under his feet, reminiscent of a giant toddler. “But you’re doing that thing again,” he mumbled. “The one where you act like Franny is yours. Like she’s yours to take care of and protect and defend—”</p><p> </p><p>“Because she’s my friend,” Michael reminded him. “And Franny doesn’t need anyone to protect her. She can take care of herself.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” John stressed, hands on his hips. “I know Franny can take care of herself.”  He glared down at the grass, sad and perturbed. “But it becomes a problem when her family likes you more than they like me.”</p><p> </p><p>Any witty or defensive remark Michael had prepared disappeared from his mind. His cousin needed comfort, not scolding. “That's not true,” Michael tried to assure him. “The Bridgertons haven’t had an opportunity to get to know you. Give them time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Her brother was business like when I asked for his blessing,” John grumbled. “Hell, he didn’t even truly give me his blessing!” he bemoaned, running his sweaty palms down his suit again. “He wasn’t happy or excited—”</p><p> </p><p>“In Anthony’s defense he doesn’t seem like a happy or excited fellow,” Michael cut in, sharing his observations of the eldest Bridgerton. “He kind of has a resting grumpy face.”</p><p> </p><p>“The point is neither him nor Violet were thrilled with the idea of me proposing to Franny, only accepting it because they probably didn’t want to go against Franny’s wishes,” John told him, near pouting in destress. “God, this was a terrible idea,” he dropped his face into his hands, “I don’t even have the Stirling heirloom ring. It’s stuck somewhere between here and Scotland. I had to borrow a Bridgerton one.”</p><p> </p><p>Michael winced. “Maybe, cousin, this is all a sign.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of what?”</p><p> </p><p>“That you shouldn’t propose to Franny. At least not now.”</p><p> </p><p>John frowned.</p><p> </p><p>“I promise I am not going to get in your way if you do propose,” Michael said, trying his best to be gentle, “but I am saying…maybe the universe is trying to send you a sign. Maybe now is not the right time. Maybe tomorrow is. Or next week. Or even three years from now,” he jested, nudging John’s arm. “But don’t try to make something happen when it clearly shouldn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>His cousin nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. Side by side, they surveyed the party. The Bridgerton men continued their bickering as they spoke with various guests, Eloise and Penelope were dancing together to the upbeat music thrumming through the speakers, and Francesca was caught in Agatha Danbury’s clutches, the woman leaning on her as they promenaded the perimeter of the dancefloor.</p><p> </p><p>“What will I tell Anthony and Violet once they realize I did not propose tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>Michael chortled. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Rumor has it chaos and scandal always ensue at a Bridgerton party. Luckily, you won’t be part of that.”</p><p> </p><p>John, for the first time that night, laughed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kate was positive she was being watched.</p><p> </p><p>She simply did not know by who.</p><p> </p><p>And she knew it wasn’t Anthony. He’d been stopping by to check in on her every so often, before getting swept into another conversation he didn’t want to be in. (<em>The unfortunate realities of being with a Bridgerton,</em> Simon told her passing.) Not to mention Anthony’s stare was different; she felt comfortable, protected, cared for under his stare. Not to mention when she looked over her shoulder and met his eyes, he’d make a stupid-silly face and she’d make one right back.</p><p> </p><p>His watchful gaze was welcomed and one she no longer considered an annoyance.</p><p> </p><p>This one however…</p><p> </p><p>It made her skin crawl.</p><p> </p><p>Briefly she wondered if she was being paranoid.</p><p> </p><p>Plenty of guests has openly stared at her, narrowed their vulture eyes, and scanned her like she was animal up for auction at a fair. Because as many put, “She was there with Anthony Bridgerton, and Anthony never brought anyone to these events.” She was an anomaly in their little world.</p><p> </p><p>Kate would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a smidge of pride and smugness at the remarks. How she ‘caught’ the ‘forever bachelor’—a phase murmured in passing when guests thought she wasn’t listening. But Kate was always aware of those around her, and found it both alarming and humorous how quickly gossip could jump from one inkling to another with little provocation.</p><p> </p><p>She and Anthony hadn’t officially announced or told his family they were together. They’d just arrived arm in arm and that was enough to put people in a frenzy.</p><p> </p><p>Sipping her wine by the edge of the dancefloor, she scanned the room, hoping to find her culprit.</p><p> </p><p>Her first thought was Michael. He was clicking away with his camera all night; she caught him pointing the lens to her more than once. She knew he got one of her and Anthony dancing. Spotting him over Anthony's shoulder, she tensed, her stomach churring in a warning to run, but she didn’t. Anthony simply held her closer and rubbed soothing circles into her shoulder. She forgot about her aversion to photos in light of his touch and his muttered words into her ear about how terrible the Smythe-Smith’s were playing.</p><p> </p><p>She laughed more than she cared to admit to his stupid jokes, pitying most of the girls on stage. The three Smythe-Smith girls looked lost without their cellist, and sounded lost too.</p><p> </p><p>Each time Anthony made a remark about the music, Kate observed him closely. Waited for him to look at the stage. Look at who was behind the cello. For him to stutter in his step as the woman played.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes never left her and when they did, it was to poke fun at guests or his siblings.</p><p> </p><p>As though he was completely unaware of who was there.</p><p> </p><p>In Kate’s wishful thinking, maybe Anthony was unaware. Maybe so much time had passed, he no longer incline his head to the sound of the woman’s playing. Or felt a pull to her when she was in the room.</p><p> </p><p>It was then Kate knew her culprit.</p><p> </p><p>Turning to her right, she spotted the cellist watching her by the stairs of the stage. A disillusioned air emitted from the woman, she unengaged and unamused with her surroundings. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere, but at the party.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes locked with Kate’s.</p><p> </p><p>She stared hard, as though attempting to scare her. Force her to flinch and look away.</p><p> </p><p>But Kate was not a silly girl, nor one easily intimidated.</p><p> </p><p>She matched the cellist’s gaze, unaffected.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, the cellist took this as a cue to wade her way through the party to Kate.</p><p> </p><p>If Kate was a lesser woman, she would have turned on her heel and fled into the party-goes, letting the fancy dresses and suits be her shield. But that was not her. Instead, she stood her ground and waited for the woman to reach her.</p><p> </p><p>When the cellist <em>did</em> reached her, Kate sipped her drink and barely acknowledging the other woman’s presence.</p><p> </p><p>“I see he reaches younger now,” the woman drawled as her greeting. “Thank god it’s you and not the scholar girl. Lord knows what he could possibly have in common with a twenty-two year old.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s jaw locked, she willing herself to not break the glass in her hand.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t immediately say anything on the cellist’s comment. Taking advantage of her silence, the other woman continued to speak, a bit more superior in her tone, “My apologies. I never introduced myself. I’m—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know who you are,” Kate cut through. Sharp and to the point. She kept her gaze trained forward. She watched as Hyacinth giggled with a boy and how Gregory tried and failed to get a girl to dance with him. Watching the two kept her civil. “Do you really think Anthony would tell me about you and I wouldn’t do my research?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate searched the woman, Siena Rosso, after Anthony told her about their tumultuous and toxic relationship. Found out who she was, what she did, where she was now. All public access due to the performer’s constant use of social media. The only thing the woman never had on her platforms was Anthony—not an shred of him anywhere. Knowing him, he probably insisted on keeping a low profile, to the point of nonexistence when they were together.</p><p> </p><p>“I never thought Anthony would talk about me, period.” Siena turned away from the dancefloor and face Kate fully. “I am merely curious what he’d want to do with a school teacher. You don’t give him any gain in his work and you’d only pull him away from his duties.” She tutted, eyes narrowing on Kate. Her eyes raked up and down her body. “The sex must be good.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate nearly choked on her wine.</p><p> </p><p>Siena gave a half shrug. “Or at least decent. I don’t doubt your capabilities. You’re an attractive woman; it’s him. He was always distracted when we were together. His mind was anywhere and everywhere, but with me. Even when he was inside me,” she added with an annoyed eyeroll. She scoffed. “I pity you.”</p><p> </p><p>Biting hard on the inside of her cheek, Kate tried her best to maintain her composure.</p><p> </p><p>She and Anthony still hadn’t had sex. There was no rush on either of their parts; they were simply enjoying being with one another and taking their time exploring each other at their own pace.</p><p> </p><p>While she knew Siena was trying to make her feel less, implying perhaps Anthony used her only for sex and an a means for a physical escape, Kate knew this was not the case.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony let her know, <em>very well</em>, he was present with her. Hard to imagine he wasn’t. Nothing about their time together was absent or absentminded. Every touch, every kiss, every caress and taunt was intentional and only for <em>her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Kate took comfort in this quiet revelation.</p><p> </p><p>“I always told myself I would pity the next woman he roped into his charms,” Siena mused, finding her own glass of wine to drink at leisure. “Because under all that grumpiness and manic-depressiveness there is charm.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Kate murmured, apparently only capable of simple phrases at the moment. She ignored the sudden urge to toss her wine into the woman’s face at her description of Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>“A kind of sweet charm, but trust me if it hasn’t already, it will wear off,” Siena muttered darkly into her glass. “I am saying this to help you—” She kept her gaze trained on Kate’s face, hoping to lock her in place. “—he’ll <em>never</em> choose you. He’ll never pick you. When you call for his help, he’ll find an excuse or be handed one on a silver platter by his ever present <em>family</em>,” she spat the word. Siena near sneered at the guests roaming about, all paying no mind to the women seemingly chatting away together. “He will <em>always</em> choose his family before you. Whatever promises he’ll make to you, he’ll break them the moment one of his sisters comes calling or when one of his brothers need someone to pick him up from the airport or train station.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Not to mention he’s a workaholic. I never saw him unless he needed a quick fuck—”</p><p> </p><p>“Siena,” Kate interjected, firm. Calm and cool, she spoke with an authority she never knew she possessed, one she’d later believe may have always lived deep within her and in waiting. “I knew you’d be here tonight. Most of the Bridgertons are aware you are here tonight. I was being the mature and civil party to not engage with you tonight because neither of us should be spending our time talking about a man who scorned you and one I may be currently seeing because <em>what’s the point</em>?” Kate’s rhetorical question was met with owlish eyes. “At the end of the day, he still hurt you. You still hurt him. There is pain there, I understand that, but speaking ill about him and preaching about his flaws…” Kate remained in control, taking a deep breath. “You are only hurting yourself more. Forcing yourself to relive those moments and the hurt you felt.”</p><p> </p><p>She paused, expecting Siena to snap back a response. Except Kate was met with silence. “Has it ever occurred to you that all the flaws you found in Anthony might be what I love about him?” Kate asked.</p><p> </p><p>Siena did not speak again, only watching with growing watery eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Kate licked her lips, finding herself speaking faster. “That maybe his dedication to his family is what I adore most about him? Because maybe I adore my family just as fiercely as him and I never thought I’d find someone as neurotic and ridiculously overprotective as me, maybe more so?” She shrugged, fighting off a sudden giggle, one bubbling and fighting for release the more she thought about Anthony. “And yes, he may be a workaholic—and he’s getting better at that—but it’s because he cares <em>so much</em> about his family’s legacy and business and doesn’t believe in half-assing anything.” The giggle could not be fought off anymore, it slipping out and stealing her breath. “He’s not perfect—I know that. Oh god, I know <em>that</em>,” she insisted, thinking of all the ways he screwed up like a dummy; a complete competitive, overprotective, and micro-managing dummy he was on most days, “but I love him. I love him despite his flaws.” Inhaling deeply, Kate shrugged, knowing she was a lost cause when it came to Anthony; she all but confessed her deep affection for him to his ex, after all. “My point is—if you want to help me, as you so claim you do, then why are you speaking terribly about someone I care about, when you can tell I’m happy and he’s happy? I know you know, you’ve been watching us all night.”</p><p> </p><p>Siena swallowed tightly. “You’re just like him," she edged out. “It’s grating.”</p><p> </p><p>Not knowing what to say, Kate fiddled with wine glass. “Perhaps he and I are kindred spirits?” she tried to joke.</p><p> </p><p>White wine was tossed in Kate’s face.</p><p> </p><p>A quick toss. A bat your eye and miss it toss. Barely without notice except for the few around them who stopped and stared. Some other commotion was going on at the other side by the bar, a string of yelping ‘Congratulations’ tossed around.</p><p> </p><p>Biting her lips together, Kate nodded once. She blinked rapidly, her mascara coated eyelashes sticking together from the wine. Drips cascaded her face to her neck and were slowly slipping down her chest, Kate resisting the urge to clean herself up. She stood still, remaining unbothered. “Did that make you feel better?”</p><p> </p><p>“A little,” Siena bit out.</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” came Kate’s curt reply. “Now that you had your tantrum, we are going to make a few things clear. You are employed as a musical act for the party. You will do <em>that</em>. Just that. Finish your set and your obligation to the Smythe-Smiths, then you are going to leave. You are not going to speak to Anthony because I don’t even think he knows you are here and for all our sakes, your's included, lets keep it that way. We don’t need him to go into hyper-protective mode, at a party no less.”</p><p> </p><p>Siena’s face darkened with silent fury, but she did not argue. “Whatever doubts I had about you are gone. You two are perfect for each other. A real, future Mrs. Bridgerton in the making right here.” Shoulders pulled back and glower set, she began to walk away, only to stop by Kate’s shoulder. She leaned closer, right by her ear. “But just so you know, all these people here? They’ll never accept you. You’ll always be the interloper who stole Anthony Bridgerton from their very eligible and aristocratic daughters. You’ll always be an outsider.”</p><p> </p><p>She bumped into Kate’s shoulder and sauntered off back to the stage, following Kate’s orders.</p><p> </p><p>At the small audience she did garner, Kate gave a casual smile. “Musicians,” she shrugged in ‘what can you do’ way, “am I right?”</p><p> </p><p>A few chuckles sounded off, the party-goes losing interest in her almost instantly. The drama was over and all that was left was a young woman drenched in white wine. Nothing too amusing.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, Kate set down her glass and made her leave.</p><p> </p><p>She needed to clean herself up, maybe change. She was positive Daphne would be upset about the dress. The woman would not stop cooing and tearing up as she helped Kate get dressed, so pleased with her selection.</p><p> </p><p>Kate had barely made it out of the party, eyes set on heading into the house when a shout was heard.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate! Kate, slow down!”</p><p> </p><p><em>Anthony</em>.</p><p> </p><p>God, he was the last person she wanted to see. Upon hearing his voice her body tensed and eyes began to well—all of Siena’s remarks about him crashed on Kate. All the adrenaline she felt in their brief standoff morphed into an uneasy panic.</p><p> </p><p>Panic because she may have admitted she loved Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>Panic because she was around people and caused a small scene.</p><p> </p><p>Panic because…because this wasn’t her. She wasn’t someone who fell in love and defended their lover at a party. Hell, she rarely went to parties.</p><p> </p><p>But most of all, panic because as she was speaking to Siena about all of Anthony’s ‘flaws,’ Kate could picture a vivid future with him…</p><p> </p><p>One they may not even have the opportunity to live.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was quickly gaining on her.</p><p> </p><p>Glancing over to the house, where Anthony would surely corner her within moments, Kate took a hard right and ran straight for the gardens.</p><p> </p><p>As she came to the garden’s entrance, she kicked off her shoes, knowing they’d slow her down.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate!”</p><p> </p><p>With all her might, she sprinted into the dark maze.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>From behind his brothers’ stronghold, Anthony witnessed the entire exchange between Kate and Siena.</p><p> </p><p>This was his fault. All of this was his fault.</p><p> </p><p>He had every intention of rejoining Kate after speaking with his brothers about Francesca’s would be engagement.</p><p> </p><p>Except Francesca didn’t want to be engaged and had her own health dilemmas; ones she believed were causing John to pop the question.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony wished he asked more questions, pressed John more than simply agree with Mother’s assessment. Look where it got him! A sister who was on the verge of a breakdown and avoiding her boyfriend at every passing turn.</p><p> </p><p>He saw Francesca duck behind Agatha Danbury. The older woman must have pitied the girl because she didn’t immediately shoo her away, instead looping their arms together and taking her for a walk around the party.</p><p> </p><p>At every moment Anthony sought his escape to Kate, he was yanked into pleasantries and conversations with various guests. The only people he’d been somewhat pleased to see were his Aunt Billie and Uncle George. Even then it was hasty small talk, Anthony making promises to visit later in the week and to properly introduce Billie to Kate.</p><p> </p><p>Once he was free from unnecessary talk and chatter of guests he could hardly keep account of, Anthony resumed his path to Kate.</p><p> </p><p>However with only less than fifteen feet of distance between them, she’d been intercepted.</p><p> </p><p>By <em>Siena</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He stopped at the sight of the cellist.</p><p> </p><p>Two, almost three years had past since he’d seen Siena in the flesh. Not since he abandoned her and ended things at the airport. He’d been spineless, tactless, and heartless. He cut her out and told himself to not feel an ounce of remorse until he was alone in his flat.</p><p> </p><p>Often he thought of when he’d see her again, when in happenstance he’d run into her on the street—if she’d pass by him like a stranger.</p><p> </p><p>Never did he think he’d feel nothing. Not a shred of longing or desire. Not a pinch of pain. Not an inkling of regret.</p><p> </p><p>Hell, he didn’t even know she was performing at the party. Upon hearing the Smythe-Smiths were to be the musical entertainment for the evening, he assumed Iris was on the cello. Not until the party was in full swing did he learn Iris broke her arm and she had a substitute performing in her place. Siena being said substitute did not cross his mind once.</p><p> </p><p>That was until she was talking to Kate—</p><p> </p><p>His blood boiled to the brim as he witnessed her saunter around Kate—<em>his Kate</em>—eyes raking over her from head to toe like she was a sad sight to behold. Anthony knew the look—Siena would look at him this way when she was annoyed or disgusted—disgusted with how often he left her in favor for his family’s needs, or annoyed when he squeezed in yet another meeting at the last minute.</p><p> </p><p>He was ready to run into the fray, politeness and propriety be damned, when both Colin and Benedict appeared before him as a united front.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t,” Benedict warned, resting a hand on his shoulder. He gently pushed Anthony back a few steps, adding more distance between him and the women. “Let Kate handle it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let her handle it?” Anthony hissed. “Siena shouldn’t even be—”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, she is and there is not much we can do about it now,” Colin cut in, sparing a small glance over his shoulder to the two. “All we can do now is let this moment pass like a kidney stone.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict rolled his eyes, scoffing lowly. “We hoped something like this wouldn’t happen. All of us tried to keep it from you and Kate—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s attention snapped away from Kate’s clenching jaw to Benedict. “You <em>knew</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Colin winced. Benedict remained unaffected. “Yes,” he told Anthony plainly, “we knew. All of us Bridgerton siblings knew. Shocked to find out we have a Bridgerton Sibling Secret without you?” He chuckled at Anthony’s scowl, squeezing his shoulder tightly. “We did it to protect you—”</p><p> </p><p>“Good job there,” he spat.</p><p> </p><p>“—And Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony tensed.</p><p> </p><p>“Mostly keeping you from making a scene and humiliating Kate,” Colin clarified, nonchalant. “We really like Kate. For you and for our family and you making a bad situation worse would terribly ruin things for you two. We don’t need you to be pigheaded.” He paused, feigning reflection. “Wasn’t it you who said Kate was a grown woman and can get food on her own? Same adage here, except she is a grown woman who can fight her own battles.”</p><p> </p><p>God, he hated when his words were thrown back to him. An all too acute reminder his siblings listened to him even when he believed they didn’t give a damn what he thought.</p><p> </p><p>Looking over his brothers’ shoulders, Siena continued to speak, Kate listening with what appeared to be great disinterest. Like they were talking about the weather.</p><p> </p><p>Yet Kate’s jaw continued to clench. Whatever Siena was telling Kate was getting under her skin <em>just so</em>, enough for her jaw to clench hard enough to crack a tooth. Despite her jaw, Kate otherwise remained placid. Unamused. Attempting to maintain the high road.  </p><p> </p><p>Then Kate spoke. Sharp, cool, collected. He could not hear a word—</p><p> </p><p>“Stop staring,” Benedict hissed, nudging him a bit. “All it takes is one of them looking your way and all hell breaks loose.”</p><p> </p><p>Turning to his brother, Anthony eyes narrowed. “What would you do in my position? <em>Hm</em>? If it was Ethan—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’d be different,” Benedict insisted. “Ethan and I have been together long enough where this wouldn’t even be a situation. Not to mention I am not a hot head like you.”</p><p> </p><p>Realizing he’d get no where with <em>this</em> brother, Anthony put his tactics on his <em>other</em> brother. “Colin, if Pen—”</p><p> </p><p>“I can count the number of women I have slept with on one hand,” Colin interjected, far too smug. “Pen running into any of them would not be a situation as most of them live other countries.” He shrugged. “Not our fault you got around more than us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Face it Anthony,” Benedict began, “this will not be the first time Kate runs into your past, nor will it be her last. It’s never bothered her before, I doubt it will make her dislike you now.”</p><p> </p><p>“But this is Siena—"</p><p> </p><p>“Think of it this way—” Colin mused, an éclair magically appearing in his hand. He stared at the dessert like Hamlet would Yorick, the éclair aloft in the air. “—Siena is the boss level of this game called ‘Finding Happiness With Kate.’ You two get through this unscathed, she’s a keeper. She wins. You win. Kate will be able to handle any past girlfriend or fling without batting an eye—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s headache throbbed with increasing intensity the longer Colin spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“You are <em>not</em> comparing my love life to a fucking videogame.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a metaphor to better help you process.” Colin took a bite of his éclair. He chewed with his mouth open. “You should be thanking me.”</p><p> </p><p>Head snapping to Benedict, Anthony seethed. “Get him out of my fucking face before I shove that éclair up his nose, or better yet, kill him.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict shoved Colin away. “Go find Pen or something. Or—” He scanned the room, the three of them spotting Pen laughing with Eloise. “Or maybe do Eloise a favor and keep poor Phillip company. She said he’s never really been great at parties.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Phillip</em>?” Colin uttered. A piece of éclair spat out of his mouth, the soggy bite nearly landing on the men. Anthony’s nose wrinkled. “He’s my least favorite of the boyfriends,” he whined.</p><p> </p><p>All three men spared a glance at the mentioned man. He sat at the table Eloise abandoned him at in favor of Penelope, drinking wine and eating almond cake. He was not enthralled with the party, nor engaging with any of the guests.</p><p> </p><p>He looked bored. And annoyed. But he seemed less haggard than usual, free of the twins for one night, both of whom were with a babysitter inside the house.</p><p> </p><p>“You have a hierarchy?” Benedict asked, appalled.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony snorted. “Doesn’t everyone?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mine goes Simon, Ethan, Michael, John, and <em>then</em> Phillip. Kate is honorable mention because she is not a man, and let’s face it she’d beat Simon for number one, which he only gets because he is <em>married</em> to our sister, making him higher in power in the ‘boyfriends’ system,” Colin prattled off without much prompting, clearly having thought this out at some point the last few days.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict frowned. “Michael isn’t a boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin shrugged a shoulder. “He sure acts like he’s Franny’s boyfriend, more than John half the time.”</p><p> </p><p>They all fell silent at the mention of Franny.</p><p> </p><p>A flash of green charged right by them.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony whipped around, spotting Kate marching out of the party.</p><p> </p><p>He spun back around to his brothers, feet starting to stutter away from them on their own accord. “You two distracted me!”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict shrugged, while Colin gave full belly chuckles. “It worked didn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Screw you!” Anthony spat. “I’m going to kill you two when I get back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not appropriate party language, brother!”</p><p> </p><p>He did not bother to care which of his brothers called after him, hurrying after the flashes of green he caught in the hoard of guests milling about. He bumped into few people and not so politely shoved other’s out of his way as he clamored up the hill towards the house and past the patio.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate!”</p><p> </p><p>Once he was out of the throngs of the party, he spotted Kate a few paces ahead.</p><p> </p><p>She paused mid-stride. She must have heard him. There was no other explanation for her sudden halt.</p><p> </p><p>Then she took a sharp right, abandoning her trek to the house—</p><p> </p><p>“Kate! Slow down!”</p><p> </p><p>—and ran straight into the dark garden.</p><p> </p><p>“My god, this woman wants to kill me,” he muttered, dashing after her. He didn’t care if he looked ridiculous running after a woman—he needed to talk to Kate. He needed to know what Siena said to cause her to run. It must have been something terrible for Kate to feel the need to <em>flee</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He wanted to fix this. He needed to fix this. Whatever it was that needed to be fixed.</p><p> </p><p>In the darkness of evening, the once welcoming cherry blossoms at the entrance of the garden were a blur of dull pink. The tall hedges crafted with care and intricate thought were annoyances and hinderances, Anthony making quick judgements with every twist and turn.</p><p> </p><p>Would Kate go right or left?</p><p> </p><p>Would she take the first, second, or third path?</p><p> </p><p>Would she run straight and hope for the best?</p><p> </p><p>Or would she slip out of the many curtained off exits in the garden?</p><p> </p><p>His mother, while designing the garden and its maze ages ago, feared he and his siblings would get stuck and panic. She made several escape exits and entrances along the outer hedges. Usually they were open and wide, an obvious exit for the bored or claustrophobic, however Mother had them curtained off for the party since most of the fathering was taking place in front of the east side of the garden.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony shook away the idea of Kate making a hasty exit back into the party. She was fleeing the party, the last thing she’d want to do was rejoin the fray.</p><p> </p><p>He continued to search for her, the flowers surrounding him soon becoming fiery orange tulips.</p><p> </p><p><em>Tulips</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Her favorite.</p><p> </p><p>He knew where she was at. He was going the right way.</p><p> </p><p>Rounding the corner of the nearest hedge, he found Kate sitting on the bench.</p><p> </p><p>Her hands gripped the stone for dear life. Her shoulders hunched and head hung low as she tried to catch her breath.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stepped up to the bench, pulling on his bowtie. He ripped the damn thing off and dropped the slip of fabric in space beside her. “You run fast for someone who is not athletic.”</p><p> </p><p>She glared up at him, mouth pulled into a deep, twisted scowl. “I wanted to be left alone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you should have picked a better hiding spot.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a maze!”</p><p> </p><p>“One I know well!”</p><p> </p><p>An indignant huff left her, she turning away from him and looking out to the curtained off exit just to the left of them. “I don’t want to talk to you right now—”</p><p> </p><p>“I did nothing wrong,” he sputtered. “I’ve barely spent the evening with you—which is no fault of my own, but of my mother’s absurdly talkative guests.” He ran a panicked hand through his hair. Siena must have said something to make Kate hate him, or at the very least refuse to be around him. “Whatever Siena said to you—if she insulted you—if—if—” He couldn’t find the right words to diffuse the unsettled air brewing between them. “I’m sorry,” he said, hoping an apology of some sort would smooth over the tension.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s dark eyes latched on him, indignant. “Why are you apologizing?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Because</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because someone should.”</p><p> </p><p>“Were you the one who invited her to perform? Or call her to be a replacement?” Kate pressed.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony blinked dumbly down at her. “No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you even know she was here?” Kate added.</p><p> </p><p>“No. I did not know. I only realized she was here when…” He trailed off, waving a hand to her. “I only noticed her when she was with you.”</p><p> </p><p>She ducked her head away from him, staring hard at the grass under her feet. “You shouldn’t apologize on someone else’s behalf.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve done it all my life. It’s all I know how to do. Seven siblings, remember?” he tried to joke.</p><p> </p><p>Kate didn’t laugh.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t even look at him.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony huffed. “Tell me what she said to make you upset. Please. I hate seeing you this way,” he pleaded, low and quiet. His struggled to keep his growing fury and frustration at bay. He wasn’t upset at Kate and he didn’t want her to think he was—he was upset with the situation. If he had it his way, he’d never let Kate and Siena’s paths ever cross. “What did she say to you? Say about you?” He swiftly sat down beside Kate, reaching for her hand. He threaded his fingers through hers, hoping to comfort both of them. Siena was known to be cruel from time to time, openly stating her judgements to the person in question without any remorse. “Whatever she said about you is not true, you must believe that. She doesn’t even know you—”</p><p> </p><p>She slipped her hand out of his and stood up. “She said nothing about me, Anthony. We didn’t even talk about me or her until the very end of our rather eventful,” she motioned to her chest and face, Anthony now noticing she was a tad damp and her eyeliner ran at the corners of her eyes, “exchange.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t understand. Why are you upset—”</p><p> </p><p>“Because of how she talked about you,” Kate cut in.</p><p> </p><p>Silence befell them, Anthony struck cold.</p><p> </p><p>He should have known Siena to speak ill of him. In fact, he anticipated it the moment he spotted her.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate,” he began, not knowing how to excuse his past behaviors to someone who never knew him at what he considered his lowest point in life, excluding the year following the loss of his father, “I was not in a good place when I was with Siena—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you weren’t,” she assured him, almost patient in her tone. He expected her to come closer to him, yet Kate stepped a good few feet away from the bench, hands clenched at her sides. His chest ached the more distance she added between them. “You’ve told me as much. I am not questioning or invalidating who you were when you were with her,” she said plain, if not borderline exasperated.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not the same as I was then—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you’re not,” she spat, finally facing him again. Her dark eyes were ablaze, burning with a deep fury. This was different than their first meeting, or all other heated exchanges they had—this was different because Kate was in <em>pain</em>. “I know you are a good person despite the mistakes you’ve made, Anthony. I know that which is why I was <em>furious</em> listening to her speak terribly about you! To listen to her paint this picture of a man who was so unhappy—”</p><p> </p><p>“I was unhappy,” he felt the need to add.</p><p> </p><p>“—for so much of his life. To claim you were depressed—”</p><p> </p><p>“I might have been,” he confessed. “I probably was.”</p><p> </p><p>“—to listen to her say your devotion to your family was a problem. A <em>flaw</em>.” Kate scoffed. “I could not decide if I wanted to strangle her or ask her why she even cared in the first place, even after all this time.” Her eyes squeezed shut, lips chewed together. Kate inhaled deeply through her nose, eyes fluttering open for a millisecond before snapping shut again. “But what made me so upset was to hear how unhappy you were. How you’d use anything at your disposal to escape reality…”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony shot up from the bench and made haste to close the space between them. “I’m not unhappy now. Far from it.”</p><p> </p><p>He reached for her hand again—</p><p> </p><p>“I lied.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s eyes remained shut, pinched tight with little intention of release.</p><p> </p><p>His hand hovered over hers, not yet grasping.</p><p> </p><p>“About what?” he uttered, confused. Kate didn’t lie. In the few weeks he’d known her, Anthony knew for certain Kate did not lie; she spoke in truths, far too often and far too candid than anyone’s usual comfort.</p><p> </p><p>The idea of Kate lying was absurd.</p><p> </p><p>“About the book,” she continued, “<em>Letters to a Young Poet</em>.” Hesitantly, her eyes fluttered back open, afresh with brimming tears. “It wasn’t under the bed. I…I found the book in your bedside drawer.”</p><p> </p><p>His gut plummeted into the ether. All oxygen within him ceased to exist in a snap.</p><p> </p><p>Kate knew.</p><p> </p><p>Oh god, Kate <em>knew</em>.</p><p> </p><p>His hand dropped to his side. Away from her. Away from her radiating warmth. “You went through my things?”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” she cried out, offended. “Of course not! Not on purpose at least—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then what were you doing?” he demanded, voice raising to a boom.</p><p> </p><p>Her jaw tightened, nostrils flaring. “It was an accident!”</p><p> </p><p>“Everything with you is an accident,” he snapped. “When is there not an accident when Kate is around? <em>Hm</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>She ignored the remark, rambling straight into an explanation of her snooping. “I was looking for my scrunchies, <em>okay</em>? I could not find any of my hair-ties, scrunchies, or hair pins anywhere in my room when I know for a fact I came to Aubrey Hall with a plethora of them!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony's face and neck warmed.</p><p> </p><p>He <em>may</em> have had a <em>little</em> something to do with the case of the missing scrunchies and hair-ties. Kate’s dark curls were a sight to behold, and he always wanted to have the opportunity to behold the sight, damn it. Collecting her scrunchies and hair-ties whenever she made a stop by his room or when he had his nightly visits to hers became a small habit.</p><p> </p><p>A habit which apparently led to a demise.</p><p> </p><p>“So I went searching in your room because that’s the last time I remembered having one in my possession,” she continued, words tripping over each other. “I only looked in the drawer because it was the most logical place to look and—” She stopped talking, her aggravation morphing back into the pain he recognized earlier. “I saw the pamphlets.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stared down at her, his mouth twisted in a sour line. He wanted to be furious with her. He wanted to yell at her and scold her for going through his belongings. He’d give anything to be angry with her.</p><p> </p><p>But he couldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t when she looked up at him with those too big dark, brown eyes brimming with worried tears.</p><p> </p><p>Worried tears he caused.</p><p> </p><p>Licking his lips, he narrowed his eyes on her, calculating. “Did you read the—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she blurted out, “I read them all. More than once.”</p><p> </p><p>He chewed his lips together, <em>hard</em>. “And what do you think?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am not a medical professional—”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you think?” he asked once more, leaving no room for argument.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s arms wrapped around herself in a loose hug. “I think chronic migraines to a tumor to cancer is…is a really <em>large</em> jump in diagnoses.”</p><p> </p><p>“I said the same.”</p><p> </p><p>Her lips twitched. The concerned frown prevailed.</p><p> </p><p>“I went to a neurologist,” he explained, forcing himself to remain neutral. “I won’t have my results until, hopefully, Monday.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not fair,” she told him, eyes trained on the orange tulips beside them. “That’s what I think—this is not fair.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know what I have—”</p><p> </p><p>“You already sound defeated.” Kate’s observation needled him right in the chest, under his ribs. “My dad was the same way right before he got his results.” She inhaled sharply. “I read the survival rates…”</p><p> </p><p>He read them too. “Kate—”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want you to die.” Blinking up at him, rebel tears trickles down her cheek to her chin. “I feel utterly stupid saying that because like you said, you don’t know what you have, but—but I don’t want you to die.” She wiped under her eyes, smearing her make-up even more. “I don’t want you to be sick or die or have anything resembling a half-life when you lived so much of your life unhappy. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, not when I—” She swallowed back her words, shaking her head. Her hands clasped together, fingers twisting into each other. “Not when I—”</p><p> </p><p>Once again she said nothing, the words not finding their way out into the space between them.</p><p> </p><p>She waved a hand in the air, a strained, watery smile pulling on her lips. “Not when I—” Kate stared at him, desperate.</p><p> </p><p>“Not when you what?” he asked, holding his breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Not when I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>For a moment neither moved nor breathed, simply staring at one another.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony felt he was going to pass out—from panic or joy, he’d never know. The two emotions blended together in a cacophony of spiraling, delusional glee and dreadful horror. Because if Kate loved him and he loved her then…</p><p> </p><p>Then when he inevitably died in a few years’ time, she’d be left alone.</p><p> </p><p>His chest tightened. A bruising strain in his ribs. His heart thudded in his ears, pulsating at an alarming speed.</p><p> </p><p>The thought of Kate alone, crying like this, over him of all people…broke him in ways he did not believe possible.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t deserve this. Kate deserved happiness; someone who’d always be by her side, bring her flowers every day, and worship the ground she walked on. Anthony wanted to be her person more than he could fathom—but could he be selfish enough to have what he wanted, even if it meant hurting them both in the long run?</p><p> </p><p>He was taking too long to respond. The silence between them stretched uncomfortably, long enough for Kate to start chewing her lips together and start looking for an escape. From him. From the situation. From perhaps Aubrey Hall all together. Anthony did not blame her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate puffed out a breath, her tears dry and stained on her cheeks. “Well then…” she cleared her throat, eyes roaming to be looking at anything other than him. “That was apparently the wrong thing to say—too soon. Too soon—<em>no</em>.” She shook her head as her face twisted in annoyance, stubborn pieces of hair flopping into her face. Her sharp eyes leapt to him, dark and imploring. “Anthony, <em>say something</em>, damn it. I will not let you make me stand here like a fool when I know I cannot be the only one who feels this way.”</p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>He felt it too. But he wasn’t as brave as her to say how he felt.</p><p> </p><p>But he was selfish enough to acknowledge she was what he wanted for as long as the universe was willing to let him have her.</p><p> </p><p>He kissed her, hard and full on the mouth. His hands rested just under her shoulders, smoothing down the length of her arm until he could reach of her waist, grasping her for dear life.</p><p> </p><p>If he could not say the words, then he’d express his love for her the way he knew how.</p><p> </p><p>The tips of Kate’s fingers brushed under his jaw, an accidental tease. He wanted those hands all over him, never stopping their brushing, and tugging, and caressing. she grabbing him by the back of the neck and collar, pulling him towards her until all he could feel, smell, and taste was Kate. All Kate. He loved her all. Her intoxicating scent of lilies and soap, her gentle moan against his lips, her way of simultaneously turning him into putty and invigorated him as she quietly begged for more. The way she wanted more—always more—and how he rose to the challenge.</p><p> </p><p>He held her closer, bring her chest to chest. To feel her warmth. A welcoming, homey warmth he wanted to wrap himself into and never let go. Her fingers spread through his hair, tugging him closer until her mouth left his, feather kisses dancing along his jaw and down his neck.</p><p> </p><p>“I do,” he murmured against her temple, pressing kiss after kiss after kiss along any visible inch of skin, “I care for you, Kate. You aren’t the only one who feels like this.” He cradled her face and brushed her stubborn hair out of her face. Her hair must have gotten wet at some point, the small curls by her forehead slowly springing to life and wrecking their havoc upon her.</p><p> </p><p>Large, dark eyes stared up at him, relieved.</p><p> </p><p>She leaned up closer until her nose brushed against his. “I want you. I want you for as long as I can have you.” She played with the loose buttons around his collar, eyes scanning his face in heated longing. “Please. I just want to love you and be loved by you.”</p><p> </p><p>A low growl of need spurred from within him. Their lips found each other once more, Anthony’s arms wounding around Kate, her hands latching at him in a thirsting frenzy. In one swoop he hiked up the skirt of her dress and lifted her into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his hips, a groan rumbling through him as he held her up and close to him. Hands, lips, moans all blurred together as he tried to find a surface, any surface in the blasted, dark garden.</p><p> </p><p>They were doing this. They were really do this. God, how he’d been patient, waiting for her.</p><p> </p><p>Her nose nuzzled under his chin, lips nipping at him. A half wanton sigh and laugh escaped him. He was becoming delirious, completely at her mercy.</p><p> </p><p>Just when he thought he found the hedge, the world tipped over.</p><p> </p><p>As in, Anthony was falling with Kate in his arms. Where he’d assumed the hedge to be in his half-aware brain was no hedge at all, but one of the curtained off exits in the garden.</p><p> </p><p>With a yelp and a sharp, panicked screech (no one needed to know which came from whom), Anthony fell forward, back into the party with Kate under him. They landed with an aching thud, Anthony having enough sense to partially catch himself with one hand while the other flew to back of Kate’s head.</p><p> </p><p>His face, however, landed right into her bosom.</p><p> </p><p>Normally, he’d be happy to leave his face right between the valley of her breasts and she’d happily have him there. Yet it was not an entirely appropriate position to be caught in during a large outdoor evening party, where more than half the guests stared openly at their mishap.</p><p> </p><p>“Get your face out of my chest,” Kate gritted out.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever longing, desire, lust, loving haze she had resided in moments ago was out like a candle flame in a breeze.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, dear,” Anthony mumbled, immediately following her orders, face burning. He carefully climbed off her, arms and legs sore from the tumble. He reached to adjust her dress only for Kate to swat his hands away.</p><p> </p><p>Understandable reaction all things considering.</p><p> </p><p>Ignoring the stares, Anthony coughed and began to stand up when Hyacinth’s clear, loud voice cut through the crowd.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Is that a ring box</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony froze.</p><p> </p><p>Gasps echoed across the growing crowd. Murmurs spread about at lightening speed. </p><p> </p><p>His eyes snapped a few feet ahead of him.</p><p> </p><p>Laying on its side, bright against the dark green of the grass was a powder blue ring box.</p><p> </p><p>The very same ring box he hastily shoved into his inner jacket pocket mere hours ago, thinking nothing of it. He’d save the ring for the right time if it ever presented itself.</p><p> </p><p>Lamely Anthony patted the pockets of his jacket, as though the sight before him was an illusion and the box was still tucked away.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t. This was reality—the box was out in the open and the crowd gathered undoubtedly believed he was going to propose. To Kate.</p><p> </p><p>He spared a panicked glance to Kate. She fared no better than him, eyes wide and body stiff as she stared at the box.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony looked back at the crowd and spotted his mother, the guests parting like the red sea for her. Within seconds she made her way to the forefront of the chaos. Her mouth pulled into a thin line and eyes hard, she brimming with fury as she assessed the situation. But then she took a deep breath, all her bottled, near bursting anger vanishing.</p><p> </p><p>A placid, sweet smile emerged.</p><p> </p><p>He knew that look. Violet Bridgerton was going to save the situation by any means necessary, even if it was at his expense.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, son,” Violet edged out lightly, “don’t wait on our accounts. Go on now. <em>Propose</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Well, fuck.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There is your compromising position and proposal, dear readers 😂😂😂</p><p>Some Notes ~</p><p>1. GARETH. We got our introduction to my boy Gareth! And yes, I made him American because why not? His face claim/fancast is Jordan Fisher :) We'll see him a bit next chapter and he'll come back in the sequel!</p><p>2. Ah, yes, Franny's infertility. This was one thing I absolutely wanted to cover when it came to Francesca. We won't get the whole story with this fic, as this is not her story, but this moment is significant to the series as well as Anthony and Francesca's individual character developments.</p><p>3. ELOISE AND PENELOPE! I LOVE PLATONIC SOULMATES. Their love confession might be my favorite love confession I have ever written. All forms of love are significant in life, and friendship is the greatest love story, tbh.</p><p>4. Michael and John are an interesting duo. I hate we don't know much about John in the books and I hope I can add a little more life and character to him in this series. Let me know if you are Team Michael or Team John in the comments, lol.</p><p>5. I looked high and low for Lady Danbury's first name in the books and show, and maybe I am lame and am just not noticing it, but I could not find her first name anywhere. So I went with L. Danbury because I don't necessarily want to give her a first name when I know we will eventually get one, so you can just assume her first name here begins with an L, lol. EDIT NOTE 4/4/21: Her name has been uncovered and I have made the appropriate edits!</p><p>6. Okay, okay, okay, okay--SIENA IS NOT A VILLIAN OR TERRIBLE. She's just a woman who's been hurt too many times and doesn't always make the best choices. Like tossing wine in Kate's face. I hoped I conveyed Siena is a hurt person. Hurt people hurt people. </p><p>7. WE GOT A LOVE CONFESSION AND TALKS. Who guessed Kate saw the pamphlets?</p><p>8. REMEMBER THE RING? MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.</p><p>ON ANOTHER NOTE...</p><p>Because I know I need to address it--RJP not returning for season 2. </p><p>I am not surprised nor disappointed with his departure. In fact, I respect RJP's decision to not be in season 2, especially due to his reasoning. A good actor knows when their arc is complete and the significance of a satisfying ending to an audience. An actor's job is to serve the story and the fact RJP acknowledges he has served Simon's story well and knows the focus needs to be on the other characters shows he is a good actor and a responsible storyteller. The show is called 'Bridgerton,' which means it is about ALL the Bridgertons; his character still exists, he just won't be on screen. He was only contracted for one season and as far as I am aware (based on interview snooping, lol) the only actor who seems like they will be in Bridgerton long-term is JB. Which makes sense if you've read the books *shrugs*. Personally, I think it logistically makes sense for RJP to not be in season 2; remember we are in pandemic, so quarantining between shoots is a thing and probably not worth it for a two-bit conflict plotline, and he has lots of exciting projects coming up, so the world will not be deprived of him! All this to say...no slander against actors and their decisions, please. I am not affiliated with the show 😂😂😂 just a gal who likes to write and adores Bridgerton, lol</p><p>Also...EDWINA WAS CAST! Ahhh! Charitha Chandran is going to play her and whoever is the casting director for Bridgerton needs a raise because wow perfect casting. </p><p>Anyways, yell at me in comments about this chapter! There is plenty to yell about!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Everybody Talks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Breaking up my usual update schedule to save you from the agony of another cliffhanger, lol.</p><p>WARNING: Depictions of an anxiety attack are in this chapter.</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>|@ladywhistledown</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My, my, my! You know what they say—a Bridgerton party is not complete without a little drama and scandal!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>AND BOY DID WE GET IT! (1/6)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>|@ladywhistledown</em>
</p><p><em>Eldest son &amp; notorious bachelor Anthony Bridgerton @anthonybridge is ENGAGED to Kate Sharma-Sheffield @katethedaffodil</em> (<em>btw </em><em>❤ </em><em>the username darling </em><em>😉</em><em>) But this is just the beginning…</em></p><p><em>The two were caught in quite the *compromising* </em> <em>👀</em> <em> position in the gardens but that did not stop this proposal! (2/6)</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>|@ladywhistledown</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Before all the guests A.B. got down on one knee &amp; popped the question! Much to EVERYONE’S surprise. Even his family, the proposal very hush-hush. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rumor has it one of his siblings cried! </em>
</p><p><em>(It was Colin Bridgerton </em> <em>@cb_travels)</em></p><p><em>But more importantly—SHE SAID YES </em><em>😱</em> <em>😱</em> <em>😱</em><em> (3/6)</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>|@ladywhistledown</em>
</p><p>
  <em>These events beg the question—HOW? How did this nobody from nowhere tame the bachelor? How did an art teacher snag a BRIDGERTON?</em>
</p><p><em>Well, lucky for all of you I have (almost) all the details…</em> <em> 👀 👀 👀 (</em> <em>4/6)</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>|@ladywhistledown</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sources say the two have been inseparable since Miss Sharma-Sheffield’s arrival at Aubrey Hall. Daily walks with her corgi are one of their many excursions around the estate, as well as field games, painting, &amp; family outings.</em>
</p><p><em>In fact she might be the reason A.B. &amp; Edwina Sheffield (Kate’s SISTER, </em> <em>@edwinasheff</em> <em>) broke-up!  (5/6)</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>|@ladywhistledown</em>
</p><p><em>E.S. was attached to A.B. for some time, but it seems like our fav bachelor always had eyes for the older sister! No shocker there! Anyone who crosses paths with the newly engaged couple can see the love &amp; adoration they share for one another </em> <em>🥰</em></p><p>
  <em>No matter the shortness of their courtship, love prevails (6/6)</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, alright!” Violet shooed off a few of the guests remaining around Anthony and Kate. “Go enjoy the rest of the party! Let us allow the couple some space! I’m sure Kate and Anthony want to have a moment or two by themselves!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s right hand tightened on Anthony’s arm, her short nails digging into his suit jacket. He refrained a wince, keeping his pleasant smile perfectly in place. God, did she have a death grip.</p><p> </p><p>The three waited as lingering guests got their fill of congratulations and peek at the ring. Once the last few of guests shuffled off back into the party, Violet turned to them, all sweet smiles gone. “You two. In the study. With me. Now.” She stepped aside, allowing them to lead the way.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was quick to pull Kate along and put distance between himself and his mother. Thankfully, Kate had the same idea, her legs quick and matching him in stride. “I’m going to <em>kill you</em> in your sleep,” she hissed into his ear as they climbed up the patio steps.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll gladly welcome the death,” Anthony quipped back, the dread in his gut making itself at home. “Anything would be better than having to constantly relive <em>that</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>If he was going to propose, by god, it wasn’t going to be at a party with people he could care less about. It’d be private. Personal. Not…</p><p> </p><p>Not the circus he caved into less than ten minutes earlier.</p><p> </p><p>He led her into the house, the two forcing fake smiles to the calls of congratulations from the waiting staff and catering. His mother’s footsteps echoed behind them, making sure they followed through with her orders.</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you do it?” Kate muttered once they were out of the kitchen and dinning room and into the foyer. “Why the hell would you do that?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Because what else was I supposed to do</em>,” he growled low to her, temper rising.</p><p> </p><p>The glare Kate sent him chilled Anthony to the bone.</p><p> </p><p>He hampered down his aggravation. She wasn’t at fault here. Truly, neither one of them were. He took a deep breath. “What else was I supposed to do?” he asked, this time in earnest.</p><p> </p><p>Nostrils flaring and mouth in a thin line, Kate looked away from him.</p><p> </p><p>When they reached his study, she dropped his arm and walked further ahead into the room.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sighed, feet hurrying to catch up with her. “Kate—”</p><p> </p><p>“You two, sit,” Violet called out, shutting the door behind her. “Please,” she added as an afterthought.</p><p> </p><p>Without questioning, Kate sat down on the settee across from the fireplace. Also known as the seat furthest from him.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony, however, was not as complacent as his apparent fiancée. He whirled to his mother, infuriated. “What the hell was that?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can ask you the same thing,” Violet told him, shock marring her face. “A ring in your pocket? Sneaking away into the gardens? Causing a scene—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You twisted my arm in public</em>! What do you not understand about that?” Hands on his hips, Anthony seethed, his head pounding. He paced away from her to his desk, haggard breaths slipping past his lips.</p><p> </p><p>His Mother would not let him escape, following after him. The desk sat between them, the only physical barrier from the verbal lashing he knew he’d receive. “I did what I needed to do to save the situation,” Violet told him, blunt. “Do you know how <em>bad</em> you looked? On the ground with Kate in a <em>compromising</em> position and a ring sitting out?” She scoffed through an exasperated chuckle. “It would have looked worse if you didn’t propose! You’d be the man who was caught in a rendezvous and awkwardly backed out of a proposal! I was trying to help you!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I don’t need your help</em>!” Anthony boomed, hands clenched at his sides. “I have never needed your help! I have gone this far into adulthood without your help, you don’t need to step in and—and—and—”</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t breathe.</p><p> </p><p>His chest felt like it was breaking. And on fire.</p><p> </p><p>God, he couldn’t breathe.</p><p> </p><p>His screwed his eyes shut—he needed to breathe, but he felt like no air was getting into his lungs.</p><p> </p><p>He felt like he was drowning on dry land.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony!” His mother’s worried call sounded deep underwater.</p><p> </p><p>Footsteps approached him. Warm hands laid on his biceps, a firm pressure. “Anthony,” Kate’s calm voice cut through the ponding in his head, “I’m right here. I’m here, okay?” He nodded, keeping his eyes shut. He was afraid the world would spin if he cracked open an eye. “I know you are upset. And are feeling stressed and panicked. And you have every right to be.” Again he nodded, just once, still struggling to breathe. “But this feeling will pass—it’s temporary.” She squeezed his biceps, his breath stuttering. “You need to breathe. Can you breathe for me?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony wasn’t sure how he did it, but he breathed. He listened to Kate and he tried his best to breathe. In and out.</p><p> </p><p>He could feel her match his breath—or rather, he matched hers, the swell in his chest decreasing to a dull ache breath after breath.</p><p> </p><p>Hot tears burned his eyes, he blinking them away.</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Kate said, her hands remaining on him. “You’re doing a good job. Keep on breathing.”</p><p> </p><p>Feeling air smoothly enter and escape him, Anthony swallowed, his throat dry. Opening his eyes, he found Kate in front of him, calm and <em>there</em>. His eyes briefly scanned her face before darting to his mother. She tried to give them privacy, turning away from him and Kate.</p><p> </p><p>Yet he noticed the concerned pinch of her brow.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t mean what he said, but he sure as hell felt it.</p><p> </p><p>“Mother,” he began, hoarse, “I…I understand you were trying to help—” He ducked away from Kate, coughing. After a moment he caught his breath. “I appreciate the thought, but I am not upset about you helping. I am <em>upset</em>—” He quietly settled his breath, feeling the prick of anger spike within him. “—Because if I wanted to propose that was not the way I would have done it.” He crossed his arms over his chest, inching away from Kate. He couldn’t look at her while trying to explain this to his mother. Instead, he stepped around the desk and stood across from Violet, hoping to meet her eye to eye. “I felt like a fool. A man should not feel like a fool when he proposes to a woman he cares about.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” She did not look up at him; her focus remained on her clasped hands, fingers fiddling with her old wedding band. “I’d never want you to feel like a fool.” She sighed tiredly. “I was trying to prevent that.”</p><p> </p><p>There was one thing to <em>look</em> like a fool, and another to <em>feel</em> like a fool. Anthony did not bother to explain the difference; it would not help either of them.</p><p> </p><p>Violet turned to Kate, apologetic. “I’m sorry, Kate. For what I pressured Anthony to do. For having you play into this. It was never my intention to hurt you or make a fool of you in any way.”</p><p> </p><p>Behind the desk, Kate blinked, stunned. “Oh. Uh, thank you. For the apology. I appreciate it.”</p><p> </p><p>His mother nodded once before turning back to him. “No one says you have to get married or truly engaged,” she said, “all I suggest is you play the part for tonight and let this blow over. Hopefully no one will remember this in a weeks’ time,” she tried to assure them. “I’ll go back out to the party and let you two be then.” Violet made her way to the door, pausing as she took her leave. “I hope one day you both can forgive me for tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>She shut the door behind her, leaving Anthony and Kate alone.</p><p> </p><p>Huffing, Anthony followed after his mother, double checking to see if the door did close. He had half the mind to lock it to assure he and Kate would be alone without one of his siblings barging in; they both needed to breathe, be still, and be alone for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>He knew he was expected to go back out into the party with Kate, and he would, brushing off and ignoring any more remarks spurred throughout the night. He’d never been one to care on the thoughts of society and the whispers of gossip. When it came to the grumblings of the world, Anthony grew thick skin at an early age. It was the only way to survive the insistent gibberish.</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you have the ring?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s clear question cut across the room to him.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony watched as she came around the desk towards him. She carried her head high, considering him carefully.</p><p> </p><p>He coughed, throat still raspy from his moment of panic. “I beg your pardon?”</p><p> </p><p>“The ring,” Kate urged, “why did you have it in your jacket pocket?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaw working for an answer, Anthony found himself at a loss.</p><p> </p><p>Absentmindedness did not seem to be an adequate excuse to have an engagement ring in one’s pocket. Kate would not believe it either.</p><p> </p><p>Yet he did not want her to think he was thinking of marriage, not so soon at least. Not when they’d only been together for at most, <em>a</em> week.</p><p> </p><p>He’d sound insane.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>As if he hadn’t already considered a future with her…</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“John was going to propose to Francesca,” Anthony began.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Kate rolled her eyes, “you told me.” He did, back when they were dancing at the party. He needed to talk to someone about the engagement and his worries, and Kate was always willing to listen.</p><p> </p><p>He matched her annoyed stare with one of his own. “But he didn’t have a ring, so I loaned him a Bridgerton one. He picked it from the collection we have. And when I saw…” His breath stuttered, gaze landing on her left hand. The ring sat inconspicuously on her hand, like it always belonged there. “…when I saw that ring, I pocketed it. I don’t know why, but I did because I wanted to save it.” He hoped the ‘<em>for you</em>’ was implied enough.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully it was.</p><p> </p><p>She twisted the ring on her finger. By some miracle the band was a perfect fit, no resizing necessary. If he were a spiritual man, he’d claim this moment to be by God’s design. As a logical yet superstitious man, he knew he could not ignore the signs.</p><p> </p><p>The ring fit her. They were having an engagement party; albeit one not intend for he and Kate, but an engagement party nonetheless. And he <em>did</em> boast quiet a bit to his brothers prior to holiday how he’d be engaged by the end of the month. And she <em>did</em> say he <em>would not</em> be engaged to her sister—how she would not allow it.</p><p> </p><p>Hell, perhaps they accidently spoke their engagement into existence, and the universe listened.</p><p> </p><p>He cared for Kate. He loved her. He could not deny to himself how he felt about her. She would be a wonderful wife; caring and attentive. A perfect addition to the Bridgerton family; he was positive his siblings adored her more than him. If they had children, she’d be a fantastic mother; the images of her with Oliver and Amanda still sat in the back of his mind, how at ease and natural she’d been.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony did not want to marry for love. He came to this conclusion at a young age. As he watched his mother crumble and attempt to be strong after his father’s death, as he picked up the pieces of his grieving family, Anthony promised himself he’d never let anyone he loved go through the hurt of loss again, most of all from his death.</p><p> </p><p>Logically he knew this notion was impossible, death and loss were inevitable. He could not stop life from happening, love and loss, to his siblings. He’d at least try to protect all seven of them from pain and see to their happiness.</p><p> </p><p>But Kate was strong. Capable. Understanding. Protective. Most of all kind and compassionate. If anyone could take care of his family once he was gone, at the same level as himself, it would be her. He’d trust no one else.</p><p> </p><p>If he only had so much time left…if the universe was shoving him and Kate together for some absurd and convoluted reason…who was Anthony to deny the notion?</p><p> </p><p>He had to seize the opportunity.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s get married.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s head snapped up from her fidgeting hands, eyes impossibly large. “<em>Excuse me</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s get married,” Anthony repeated, louder than the first time. An intense bubble of gleeful adrenaline pumped through him. “We should get married!”</p><p> </p><p>She blinked rapidly, licking her lips as she tried to form words. “What—what do you mean? Get married? We’re not really engaged—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony surged to her, grasping her ever fidgeting hands. He pulled her close to him, to meet his gaze. “But aren’t we?” His eyes darted to the ring just under his chin. “Everyone outside thinks we are. Half the world probably knows by now considering Whistledown is tweeting up a storm about it.” Her dark eyes remained hard on him, brows pinching deep together. “Why not just do it? Why not get married?”</p><p> </p><p>“You sound insane,” she spat. Her hands slipped from his at an alarming speed. “Do you not hear yourself?” Kate stepped away from him. She glanced around, realizing there was no real escape from him in the study—so she fled towards the farthest armchair, trying to put distance between them. “You just had an anxiety attack. You aren’t thinking clearly—”</p><p> </p><p>“Contrary, this is the clearest I have ever thought,” he shot back. In three quick strides he followed her. Huffing, Kate side stepped behind the chair, clutching the wingback like a shield and weapon; he wouldn't be surprised if she tried to topple the chair into him in effort to knock ‘sense’ into him. On her left hand the ring stared back at him, taunting. Dropping his hands on the armrests, he leaned forward, face to face with her. “We are friends. You are my dearest friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes narrowed despite the darkening flush in her cheeks. “You always say that—”</p><p> </p><p>“And I mean it,” he insisted. “Every single time.”</p><p> </p><p>Nearly two years prior Anthony recalled standing arm in arm with Daphne, prepared to walk her down the aisle. He’d been forlorn and heartbroken over Siena the months leading to his sister’s nuptials. He tried his best to hide the pain in the haste of wedding planning, but his sister noticed. She never openly said anything until they waited for the doors to the chapel to swing open.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Before you give whatever big brother speech you have planned</em>,” Daphne whispered, holding on to him lightly, “<em>I want to assure you I am not scared nor nervous</em>.” She smiled up at him, a blissful, glowing bride. “<em>How can I be when I am marrying my dearest friend</em>?” She pressed a light kiss to his cheek and made sure to wipe away any lipstick from his face, very motherly in the gesture. “<em>I hope the same happens for you, brother</em>. <em>You’ll know when you find her</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate, there is no one else I’d ever marry, but you.”</p><p> </p><p>A shift occurred. Kate’s once stubborn and dubious glower morphed into something softer; a slow crashing epiphany.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you…are you saying you want to get married <em>now</em>?” she asked. “You want us to elope?”</p><p> </p><p>To be perfectly honest, Anthony did not think that far. Hearing her make the suggestion, or rather conclusion of his implications, solidified the idea.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he answered, a rush of air consuming his lungs. “Yes. Let’s elope.”</p><p> </p><p>Her disbelieving, devilish smile made his heart soar. “Okay. Let’s elope!”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Simon and Daphne remained rooted at the bar. They watched the fiasco from afar, unable to get a good glimpse of what had transpired between Anthony and Kate. There was no point to charge into the fray; they’d learn what had happened soon enough with the party-goer’s gossiping tendencies.</p><p> </p><p>But they did catch one thing for certain—the engagement.</p><p> </p><p>She worked on another cranberry juice, while Simon drank enough whiskey and coke for the both of them.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s getting married,” Daphne wheezed out, straw between her lips. “Anthony is getting married.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Simon mused, leaning against the counter. “I wish I can say I expected it this soon, but…” He shook his head, mildly dazed. “But I am as surprised as you.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne sipped the last of her drink and set the glass on the counter. “Moments like these I wish I could drink something stronger,” she bemoaned. “<em>He’s getting married</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“The more you say it the less real it sounds,” Simon jested, abandoning his own drink as well.</p><p> </p><p>“We need to start planning,” Daphne announced, taking a seat at the bar. She reached behind the counter and grabbed a pen and napkin. “I’ll need at least three months for the dress. I am sure whatever date they pick a venue will be flexible. This is a Bridgerton wedding we are talking about. The Bridgerton <em>heir’s</em> wedding.” Her bullet-points filled the surface of the napkin at an alarming speed. “We’ll need to contact the family florist. I am sure Kate will have an opinion on the flowers—”</p><p> </p><p>“Daff,” Simon gently nudged her, “might want to keep the wedding planning hush-hush. The lovebirds are coming our way.”</p><p> </p><p>Dropping the pen, she twirled around in her chair to find Anthony and Kate indeed coming their way. In a <em>hurry</em>.</p><p> </p><p>While they appeared worse for wear before their departure to the house—Kate missing shoes, Anthony no longer wearing his bowtie, and both their hair in disarray—they looked more put together. Kate had on flats, Anthony’s jacket may have been gone but his sleeves were neatly rolled to his elbows, and they’d at least combed their hair back into place.</p><p> </p><p>Their expressions however—<em>that</em> unsettled Daphne.</p><p> </p><p>Giddy, desperate, and buzzing were not words she’d attribute to either Anthony or Kate. Yet there they were, in the flesh, embodying the adjectives boldly.</p><p> </p><p>“We have a question for you,” Anthony stated the moment they stopped in front of Daphne and Simon, “how fast can you legally get married in this country?”</p><p> </p><p>The married couple paused.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne and Simon shared a glance.</p><p> </p><p><em>What. The. Hell</em>?</p><p> </p><p>Clearing his throat, Simon sat taller, eyeing the two warily. “You’d need to apply for a marriage license, provide verification of your identities, go to your local registrar’s office…” Simon stopped speaking, noticing Anthony and Kate were growing impatient. He sighed. “Legally speaking, you can’t get married for at least a month. A twenty-eight days’ notice.”</p><p> </p><p>“We can’t wait a month,” Anthony bit out. “Ideally we’d like to get married tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne squeaked. Oh god.</p><p> </p><p>“So we ask you again, our personal lawyer and legal-minded friend,” Kate interjected, business-like, “how fast can we legally get married?”</p><p> </p><p>Picking back up his drink, Simon knocked back the whiskey. He turned back to the two, mouth down turning. “If you want to get married soon—”</p><p> </p><p>“Tomorrow,” Anthony reminded him, unhelpfully.</p><p> </p><p>Simon refrained a wince. He’d humor them; he had to at this point. “Legally speaking you cannot get married anywhere in the UK without the proper forms and notice.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony frowned, confused. “Not even Gretna Green?”</p><p> </p><p>“We were kind of thinking Gretna Green,” Kate added.</p><p> </p><p>Another squeak pipped from Daphne.</p><p> </p><p>All ignored her.</p><p> </p><p>Breathing heavily through his nose, Simon met the two in a firm stare. “Legally no—”</p><p> </p><p>“Is it possible for you to pull some strings? Get a special license?” Anthony tried, not letting this idea of ‘getting married tomorrow’ go. “Ask some of your legal buddies for some help to speed the process—”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Simon declared. “It’s Saturday. Tomorrow is Sunday. You are batshit if you think you can get legally married and get the government to bend to your will to get married.” He shook his head, utterly baffled. “<em>Special license</em>? This isn’t 1814 Anthony! You can’t just run off and get married in Scotland.”</p><p> </p><p>His friend huffed, the hand holding Kate’s tightening. He opened his mouth to argue—</p><p> </p><p>“Who says we have to legally get married?”</p><p> </p><p>All three turned to Kate, stunned.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t flinch at the stares. She continued, speaking directly to Simon. “Theoretically speaking, if we want to we can have a symbolic ceremony tomorrow and then submit paperwork and do the legal way later. Right?”</p><p> </p><p>Simon bristled, hands clasping together over his knee. “Technically speaking, yes. You <em>can</em> symbolically get married. But I must remind you it won’t be legal. So…if you really want to do this—”</p><p> </p><p>“We do,” Anthony told him, unwavering.</p><p> </p><p>“—then you’d need to follow through with the legal stuff later. <em>Please</em>,” he stressed. “And at least try to make it nice.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know someone at Gretna Green!” Daphne suddenly cried out. Her eyes were snapped shut, the napkin in her hand crumpled. “They owe me a massive favor. You probably won’t be able to legally marry, and would need to bring someone along as a symbolic officiant, but damn it, it will be nice!”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Anthony beamed.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne blinked at her brother—she’d never seen him smile so wide.</p><p> </p><p>She nodded, feeling tears prickle in the corners of her eyes. “Yes! I’ll call them, see if we can do some private ceremony tomorrow night! Gah, this is not enough time to plan!”</p><p> </p><p>Just as she was reaching for her phone, Anthony cleared his throat, garnering both her and Simon’s attention. “To be clear,” he looked at Kate, she nodding once, “no one can know about this. The wedding. The elopement. This stays between us. And whoever else we tell.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes darted between Anthony and Kate. “You’re not telling the rest of the family?”</p><p> </p><p>“The moment we tell the family, everyone else will know,” came her brother’s pained reasoning. “As much as I’d want all my siblings there…I cannot trust all of them to keep their mouths shut.”</p><p> </p><p>“They’d respects your wishes,” Daphne insisted. “I know they would.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was not convinced. “We want to keep this between us. Please?” He became solemn, simultaneously becoming younger and older before her eyes. “Will you two be our witnesses?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Simon answered, immediate. He gave Kate a small nod. “Someone needs to look out for the Non-Bridgerton.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate chuckled. “Thank you for being my Non-Bridgerton ally in these events.”</p><p> </p><p>Both Anthony and Daphne frowned, baffled by Simon and Kate's comradery. Anthony turned to his fiancée. “I don’t understand—”</p><p> </p><p>“And you don’t need to dear.” She patted his cheek, Anthony practically melting at her touch. With their joint hands, she began to drag him along, away from Daphne and Simon. “We need to talk to a couple of more people,” she told the two, “but let’s meet in the study in an hour to iron out the details.”</p><p> </p><p>The lovebirds ran off further into the party before Daphne or Simon could utter another word.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne sat gob-smacked.</p><p> </p><p>Simon waved for the barkeep.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s getting married,” Daphne croaked out. “Tomorrow!”</p><p> </p><p>“Not legally,” Simon reminded her, watching as another whiskey was poured out for him. “Not legally,” he stated again once the drink was place before him. “Better pray to god he doesn’t fuck it up before the legal paperwork goes through.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Daphne muttered, tapping open her phone. “Oh god. I know.”</p><p> </p><p>Her face then crumpled.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?” Simon asked, panicked.</p><p> </p><p>“I just realized…” She heaved a watery sigh. “…Francesca won the wager.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn it,” he muttered. “I knew I should have picked a different month.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You are evil!”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth cackled.</p><p> </p><p>“So evil,” Gareth praised. Arms crossed over his chest, he grinned down at her. “You are possibly the most evil girl I have ever encountered in my life!”</p><p> </p><p>Preening at the praise, Hyacinth sipped her lemonade primly. “I like to think I am doing God’s work,” she countered. “Anthony needs a good shove every once in a while. I am happy to provide the shove.”</p><p> </p><p>Gareth laughed, low and full. “Outing the ring though? I didn’t even realize it was there until you pointed it out. I can probably say the same for many people here.”</p><p> </p><p>She shrugged. “Never miss an opportunity when it presents itself.”</p><p> </p><p>“What a philosophy to live by,” he mused teasingly.</p><p> </p><p>“There you are!” The call of Agatha Danbury intruded the tail end of their conversation, the stomp of her cane echoing on the dancefloor. “I have been looking everywhere for you, Gareth!”</p><p> </p><p>The boy in question smiled at the elderly woman, however an unusual bashfulness shadowed over him. “Grandmother,” he greeted, “I haven’t been far all night. And wasn’t it you who told me to leave you alone and go ‘have fun’?”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth halted, mid-sip of lemonade.</p><p> </p><p><em>Grandmother</em>?</p><p> </p><p>Danbury stopped in front of the two, chin held high as she scanned the scene before her.</p><p> </p><p>“And did you have fun? I’d like to think you did.” Her smirk landed on Hyacinth. “Hello Little Miss Hyacinth,” she greeted kindly, “I see you’ve met my grandson, Gareth.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” Hyacinth edged out, “<em>grandson</em>. I had no idea you had a grandson.”</p><p> </p><p>Danbury tutted, her amusement growing in tenfold. She nodded to the young man. “Gareth is my favorite grandson—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m your only grandson,” he reminded her quietly, a flinch of remorse in his tone.</p><p> </p><p>“—hence why you are my favorite,” she shot back. “He visits me every summer.”</p><p> </p><p>“I had no idea,” Hyacinth said, feeling smile tug at the corner of her lips. The similarities between grandmother and grandson were glaringly obvious; they held themselves in the same haughty, authoritative manner. Except Gareth was gentler, perhaps humbler than his grandmother. He was still young and Danbury had decades of confidence under her belt. “How come our paths have never crossed?”</p><p> </p><p>“You Bridgertons are only ever around your country home in July,” Danbury reminded her, leaning towards her and putting weight on her cane. “Gareth here usually visits during May and June.” She poked her grandson in the knee with the end of her cane. “But somehow I was able to convince him to stay an extra month.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Hyacinth perked. “So you’ll be here for another week?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but—”</p><p> </p><p>“He’ll be looking at the universities,” Danbury puffed up with pride, though there was a certain aggravation in her tone. “He just finished his first year of university in the States. I am trying to convince him to transfer to a school here. This is where his <em>true</em> family is at,” she told him, stern.</p><p> </p><p>“A difficult task considering I have <em>no</em> intention of leaving UC Irvine,” Gareth shot back, his polite tone masking the hostility of his words. “I like it there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Hyacinth nodded, suddenly feeling like a foolish little girl. Here she was thinking he was closer to her age, perhaps interested in her…but he was older. And in university. In the States. An ocean away.</p><p> </p><p>He was out of reach. So far out of reach and Hyacinth let herself get caught up in his charm.</p><p> </p><p>God, she was stupid.</p><p> </p><p>Danbury grunted. “Never the mind, I still look forward to your semester abroad next spring. Perhaps during that time you’ll find a reason to stick around.” Nodding to the two, she stomped her cane, ready to take her leave. “If you’ll excuse me, I am on my way to find the newly engaged couple and give my congratulations.”</p><p> </p><p>The two watched Danbury walk away, a small saunter to her step.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth decided she wanted to be the woman when she grew up. No care for propriety. Speaking her mind. Nudging and stomping away with her cane. That was the life.</p><p> </p><p>“So you’re in university? In the States? In California?” Hyacinth asked, the questions clunky and awkward.</p><p> </p><p>“College, yeah,” Gareth answered, ducking his head down. “I just turned nineteen,” he added. “I’d like us to be friends,” he said, peeking back up at her. His lips twitched into a half, quirked smile. “I don’t really have any friends here. None actually. Not since…not since my older brother died a couple of years back. We’d always stick together when we spent summers here.” He snapped his eyes closed, frowning at himself. “I don’t know why I shared that—I usually don’t like unleashing my tragic backstory until you’ve unlocked level twenty-two of friendship,” he quipped.</p><p> </p><p>“How does one reach level twenty-two of friendship?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>Gareth paused, mouth opened in surprise. “I don’t know. No one has ever gotten that far. Maybe you’re just the exception.”</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth wanted to smile, but she didn’t. “Maybe one day we can be,” she offered. “But not tonight. If you’ll excuse me,” she fled from him. He called after her, only stopping once she had gone too far.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Her phone was blowing up.</p><p> </p><p>Notification after notification lit up on her screen. Twitter alerts. Google alerts. Emails. Text messages. Messages from family and friends she hadn’t spoken to in ages.</p><p> </p><p>But worst of all, she had several missed calls from Edwina and Mary.</p><p> </p><p>Alone Kate sat in the powder room, afraid to touch her phone. This was the first escape she had all night since the indecent proposal. Anthony had been glued at her side, dragging her left and right as he secured witnesses (Daphne and Simon) and an officiant (a shocked Benedict), and surprisingly, a photographer (Michael had been far too delighted by the idea). She’d been on her way back to the study with Anthony, where they promised to meet back up  when Eloise gently pulled her away. Edwina had been trying to reach her and resorted to contacting her friend to get ahold of her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate knew she needed to call her sister back. And Mary, if Violet had not already called her.</p><p> </p><p>Yet she withheld. How did one explain to their family they were possibly making the stupidest, most exhilarating decision of their life?</p><p> </p><p>She’d never kept a secret, besides her storm terrors, from Edwina and Mary. They were close, all three of them. To tell them she was marrying a man she knew for less than a month because she’d fallen ridiculously in love and he <em>maybe</em> had an unknown illness sounded a little too farfetched, a little too fantastical, and a little too reckless.</p><p> </p><p>Kate wasn’t reckless. She was pragmatic, logical, and realistic. She understood the tangible ramifications of marriage and potentially bounding herself to someone for the rest of her life. She knew it wasn’t the brightest idea to pursue such a commitment to man she barely knew.</p><p> </p><p>However she felt like she’d known Anthony all her life. She couldn’t imagine life without him, as cheesy and lovesick as it sounded. How <em>unlike</em> her it sounded.</p><p> </p><p>Her phone buzzed on the porcelain vanity.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting up with her shoulders pushed back, Kate snatched the phone and swiped the call.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Ed—”</p><p> </p><p>“Why am I reading you are engaged? To Anthony?” Edwina rushed out. “<em>Anthony</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate bit her lips together. “Because I am.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>How</em>?” Edwina gasped. “How on earth—the last time I saw you two, you were barely figuring out how you felt and now you are getting married?” She sputtered. “I’m—I’m happy for you, but this does not make sense.”</p><p> </p><p>“It doesn’t,” Kate agreed wholeheartedly. “Nothing about it makes sense.”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina took a deep breath, about to go back into another long winded round of questioning when she paused. “You <em>know</em> how insane it sounds,” she stated, not questioned. Her sister knew her too well, catching the air of resolute and understanding in Kate's tone. “And yet you are going through with this engagement?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Kate breathed out, glancing down at her engagement ring, “I am.”</p><p> </p><p>Almost, for a fleeting instant, Kate wanted to blurt out the truth. Explain what had happened between her and Anthony, the accidental proposal, and why she was following through with the engagement. Tell Edwina she was getting married as soon as possible.</p><p> </p><p>Key word: <em>almost</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Kate held her tongue.</p><p> </p><p>Edwina did not need to know. No one but she and Anthony needed to know the truth surrounding the events of their engagement. The rest of the world and their families could believe whatever they wanted to believe, even if it meant they looked like senseless fools in puppy-love.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe they were, and what was so wrong with that?</p><p> </p><p>As much as she wanted Edwina at her spontaneous wedding, Kate did not want to worry her sister. The engagement was already sending Edwina into a tizzy, no need to make matters worse.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god, you’re engaged,” Edwina whispered in awe. “I never thought I’d see the day. I think I might cry.” Her sister’s giggles filled Kate’s ear and heart. Small sniffle sounded over the line. “You’re going to get married and be the most beautiful bride,” her sister cooed through her elated tears. Kate felt her throat thicken; she never thought she’d be a bride. Speaking to her sister made her impending wedding all more real; her sister reminded her there was a life outside of the walls of Aubrey Hall. “I need to call Mama and tell her it’s true.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate hastily wipe the stray tear under her eyes. “I’ll call her—”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’ll do it,” Edwina insisted, “you go back to the party and celebrate. You deserve the celebrate! Tell Anthony I said congrats and I cannot wait for him to be my brother!”</p><p> </p><p>Edwina hung up as Kate mumbled her goodbyes.</p><p> </p><p>The black screen of her phone glared up at her.</p><p> </p><p>Silent for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>Pure silence.</p><p> </p><p>Kate inhaled shakily, the adrenaline of the evening beginning to wear thin on her.</p><p> </p><p>Another notification lit up her screen.</p><p> </p><p>She slumped against the vanity. “Can I be left alone for two seconds?” she lamented to the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <span class="u">ANTHONY</span> </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>We might have a problem.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>More siblings know about elopement</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I need you in the study. ASAP.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Despite Anthony’s best efforts, Bridgertons were shit at keeping secrets from each other. </p><p> </p><p>“Shut the fuck up,” Eloise gasped, standing in the middle of the study with her hands on her hips, “you and Kate are getting married tomorrow? You just popped the fucking question! Oh my god, <em>Franny fucking won</em>? What the hell?”</p><p> </p><p>“I won?” Francesca, sitting with Daphne of the settee smirked in quiet delight. She turned to the siblings and partners in the study—Eloise, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, and Simon. “I’ll take my payment after the ceremony.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s stare narrowed on his siblings, scanning each of their faces. “Won <em>what</em>?” he spat.</p><p> </p><p>The room fell into terrified silence.</p><p> </p><p>Leaning against the bookshelf, Colin shrugged. “Who knows? Best to leave the women with their talk—”</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” Daphne raised an eyebrow at Colin. “You were <em>not</em> going to make a snide remark about women, were you?”</p><p> </p><p>He gulped. “Of course not, sister.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise glared at him. “You’re stupid, you know that.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin shrugged. “I’ve been told once or twice this last week.”</p><p> </p><p>All the women in the room scoffed and murmured their annoyances. The entire house knew about his Penelope debacle and subsequent reconciliation; they did not need to listen to him lament any more about it.</p><p> </p><p>“As much as I adore Kate and want you to marry her,” Benedict began, “why so soon? You never let me get the question out when you asked me to officiate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because…” Anthony shuffled around the lingering papers on his desk, avoiding the question. “Because why not?”</p><p> </p><p>His answer was met various concerned and blank stares across the room.</p><p> </p><p>“This is all moving way too fast for me!” Eloise cried out in a childish fit. Her hands gripping at her chestnut hair in utter astonishment. “How? How is this happening? Someone explain to me the series of events that led us to this wedding? I mean, it’s <em>tomorrow</em>? I need to—”</p><p> </p><p>His sister’s outburst was exactly what Anthony did not want. He did not need his siblings interrogating him and questioning his decisions. As much as he assumed they loved him and respected him, he was aware these affections had limits.</p><p> </p><p>Such as question his motives for a lightening speed engagement and wedding.</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise, for the love of god, I need you to not talk for five minutes. <em>Okay</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>His stern stare caused her to snap her mouth shut. “Right-o, brother.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne cleared her throat, garnering the attention of the room. “Anthony, brother, We are only concerned because…” She gave a half a shrug. “I think you know why.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Anthony intoned, “I don’t. Tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because this isn’t like you,” Simon said, reclining in the wingback armchair. “I support you. I like Kate. She’s a good match for you. But I believe we are concerned we have another Siena situation on our hands.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise whirled to Simon, arms thrown in the air. “Thank you! I was thinking the same thing!” She pointed to him. “See? This is why he is my <em>favorite</em> brother-in-law.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m your only brother-in-law,” Simon deadpanned.</p><p> </p><p>“Like I’ve said a thousand times: probably not for long,” she shot back cheekily.</p><p> </p><p>From behind his desk, Anthony fumed. Hands planted on his desk, he glared at his siblings, daring them to challenge him again. The accusations cut deep. Kate was nothing like Siena. He was not acting the same; not entirely. Yes, he proposed in haste, but his relationship with Kate was different. Everything with her was different in the best way possible. It hurt to hear his siblings make the comparison. “This is nothing like what happened with Siena!”</p><p> </p><p>“Then tell us how it is not,” Benedict argued. “Tell us how, so we can support you the way we want to.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony ignored the demand, focused on Daphne and Simon. “I thought I had your support. I thought you had a favor to cash in,” he reminded the two. “I thought you two were going to be on my side.”</p><p> </p><p>“We do support you,” Daphne told him. “And I did call in my favor and you do have a venue for tomorrow night—you’re welcome by the way.” She spared a glance at their siblings, all of whom regarded her with mild annoyance. When she turned back to him, she offered a small, pleading smile. “If anyone supports you the most, it’s me. It’s always been me. You know that. Never question my devotion to you, brother.”</p><p> </p><p>The bile of guilt rose within Anthony. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know you care. You always have.”</p><p> </p><p>His sister softened, leaning back into her seat. “Besides, I wasn’t the one who called for the ambush.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony scrubbed at his jaw, eyeing each Bridgerton warily. “Then who did?”</p><p> </p><p>“I did.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin pushed himself off the bookshelves, arms crossed over his chest. He ambled his way over to the desk, standing opposite Anthony, calm and casual.</p><p> </p><p>“When Benedict told me about the wedding, I got us all here,” Colin explained. “I want you to marry Kate. I do. We all do. But only when it is the right time. This is fast and I know when you are scared you make reckless decisions.”</p><p> </p><p>Biting the inside of his cheek, Anthony looked down at his desk, away from his brother.</p><p> </p><p>“I think I speak for all of us when I say we don’t want you to screw this up,” Colin told him, gentle but firm. “We care about you <em>and</em> Kate too much to let you make a mistake.”</p><p> </p><p>Feeling the stares of his siblings, Anthony swallowed tightly. To his left the portrait of his father watched over them, a silent spectator to their conversation.</p><p> </p><p>His father would want him to be open with his siblings. He'd want an honest son. After all, Anthony needed to lead by example despite not being the best at it.</p><p> </p><p>“I want marry her because she is my dearest friend,” he said, quiet. Almost too quiet. “And if…and if I am not well,” Colin flinched, knowing the implications, “at least I know I will be with someone who makes me happy. I want that to start as soon as possible,” he admitted, the most he had ever admitted to anyone. “As someone once told me, how can I be scared or nervous when I am marrying my dearest friend?”</p><p> </p><p>A tiny gasp escaped from Daphne. "Oh, Anthony," she awed. </p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, that’s romantic,” Eloise rasped, mildly disgusted. She slumped against the edge of the desk. “You really love her don’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony didn’t say anything, uncomfortable with how bare and vulnerable he was being with his siblings.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t like this feeling. He didn’t like it all. But he saw trying. Progress was progress.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it’s a good thing I bought Kate multiple dresses,” Daphne said with a determined air, standing back up. “I have one that can work as a non-traditional wedding gown.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which cars are we going to take?” Eloise asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Cars?” Anthony’s eyebrows jumped. “As in <em>multiple</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise nodded, unamused. “Yeah? We’re all going.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Anthony yelped, indignant, “you’re not!”</p><p> </p><p>“We are,” she countered, pulling herself back up to her full height.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m driving my car,” Simon announced. “Carpool anyone?”</p><p> </p><p>“Carpool!” Eloise snapped into finger guns. “I’m joining the Basset car!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, me too,” Colin added.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, wait, wait!” Anthony waved for them all to stop. His siblings' excited chatter of the wedding, one they were apparently overtaking and planning, throwing together with whatever they items they could get ahold of, ceased. “You all…” He trailed off. His siblings were smiling and bubbling with a new found zeal, for him. “Um…” He could not refuse them, not now. “You can’t….tell Mother,” he settled on. “She’d want something big and…” And he was still upset with her; all the progress they made the last week and half felt empty and useless. “I’ll tell her in my own time. Let’s make this a Bridgerton Sibling Secret.”</p><p> </p><p>His siblings, miraculously, accepted the request.</p><p> </p><p>Mumbled agreements to keep their mouths shut sounded off from the Bridgertons, the group filing out of the study and back to what little remained of his Mother’s party.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony exhaled at the click of the shut door.</p><p> </p><p>For once no one was in the study.</p><p> </p><p>He was alone.</p><p> </p><p>Blissfully alone.</p><p> </p><p>He gingerly sat down in his chair, sagging further and further into his seat until his spine touched the back of the chair. He hadn’t sat down, comfortably, in hours.</p><p> </p><p>A faint knock came from his door. “Come in,” he droned, expecting a sibling to pop their head back in.</p><p> </p><p>However he was pleasantly surprised to find his <em>fiancée</em> enter.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony liked calling her that in the safe confines of his mind—fiancée. <em>His fiancée</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“I got your text message.” Kate shut the door behind her and made her way over to him. “Sorry for coming later than you probably wanted. I was talking with Edwina about the engagement. Then Mary called with her congratulations and questions. Then my teaching assistant called too…” She rolled her eyes, dropping her phone on his desk. “Just…a lot of calls. More talking and accepting affirmations than I expected. More than I’m used to, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like it,” he mused, taking her all in. She looked as exhausted as he felt, her eyes drooping lightly and a heavy, sluggish motion in her limbs. The night had been a never ending rollercoaster, one Anthony desperately desire to climb out of.  “Probably best you took your time. My siblings were…” he winced.</p><p> </p><p>“Being your siblings?” she offered, teasingly. He nodded once. “I can imagine.”</p><p> </p><p>He reached for her, Kate placing her left hand in his. Her dark eyes locked on him as he gently reeled her closer, until she sat nestled on his lap. Arms wrapped around her, Anthony held her to his chest, breathing in the faint, dull scent of lilies in her curls.</p><p> </p><p>Head resting on his collarbone, she pressed a feather kiss on his neck. Her cold nose nuzzled into him, his lips quirking at the touch. Kate’s nose was always cold, no matter the weather or time of day. He loved knowing whenever her nose bumped his he’d get a pinch of brief coolness.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to stay right here for the rest of the night,” she breathed out against his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Me too,” he murmured into her hair. She held him tighter, her left hand fisted in his shirt. The heirloom ring</p><p> </p><p>Careful, he spun his chair to face the window.</p><p> </p><p>Guests were finally leaving after a long eventful night. The glow of headlights drifted away from Aubrey Hall, one after another. The thrumming of music from outside stopped. Footsteps echoed in the house, his family and summer guests returning to their rooms.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s low, faint snores vibrated on him. He was positive she was unaware of her occasional snoring. But he knew. Perhaps he was the only one who knew, besides her sister.</p><p> </p><p>He wondered if for the next few years every party at Aubrey Hall would end like this—in his study with Kate in his arms. If so, he looked forward to the mundane companionship marriage had to offer. Not being alone felt nice.</p><p> </p><p>The temptation of sleep speckled behind his eyelids, Kate’s comforting warmth and weight lulling him into slumber. Lips grazing her forehead, Anthony mouthed ‘I love you.’</p><p> </p><p>“I do,” he said to himself. “I truly do.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We went full circle with the party arc! Started in the study with the rings, ends in the study with Kanthony engaged in their own chaotic way.</p><p>Some Notes~</p><p>1. LADY WHISTLEDOWN came back. Like I have mentioned before, I do not intend for a Whistledown reveal in this fic. The sequel however...perhaps.</p><p>1.5. I did not show the proposal because it's not important how Anthony did it, tbh. We can all come to our conclusions of how it went down.</p><p>2. Yes I know all the progress Violet and Anthony made was shot to hell. I did that on purpose. FOR REASONS. We still got a few more chapters so worry not! And if you are wondering if Anthony and Kate are going to talk about what happened with Violet, YES THEY WILL. It just didn't happen in this chapter because of pacing and the quick succession of events.</p><p>3. To clarify, 'dearest friend' is a term of endearment Anthony has for Kate in this fic. It's his way of saying he loves her. And now we know the origins of term for him--brb gonna go cry.</p><p>3.5. "Kate, there is no one else I'd ever marry, but you."-- Anyone remember Simon saying "If Anthony marries, it’ll be you. If he does not marry you, he will marry no one.” in Chapter 22? Kate sure did.</p><p>4. Okay so based off of research, and if I understood it correctly, it is HARD to 'classically' elope in the UK! Maybe I'm so shocked because I live in an area where you can literally walk into a court house/registrars office, do all the proper paperwork, and get married in the same day. Also I now know so much about Gretna Green I hope I can casually talk about it with people once social/physical distancing becomes a relic of the past.</p><p>4.5. Once you write the 1814 special license joke, it never leaves the fic! Bahahahahaha!</p><p>5. Oh Hyacinth, young love never did run smooth. We shall see Gareth again, did a little foreshadowing of when too!</p><p>6. MARY AND EDWINA. I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN THEM (ALSO MARY WAS CAST TOO! YASSS! AND WE'RE GETTING MORE BACKSTORY WITH HER AND I AM EXCITED). We'll see them at least one more time before the end of this fic and they WILL be present in the sequel! </p><p>7. Interrogation in the Study was never meant to happen, but the Bridgerton Siblings wouldn't stop yapping in my brain. In fact this chapter was done YESTERDAY, but I cut a huge chunk out and replaced it with this scene because sometimes that happens in the writing process *shrugs* you write away until something better forms on the page and THEN YOU USE THE BETTER THING!</p><p>8. SWEET KANTHONY MOMENT. And yes, I know HE HAS NOT SAID HE LOVES HER YET TO HER. Onw day, one day he will.</p><p>EDIT NOTE: Since I have seen this asked in a few comments--THERE WILL BE SEVERAL UPDATES THIS WEEK. THAT IS THE PLAN. SO KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED!</p><p>Anyways...let me know what you think and hopefully this surprise update brightens your day a bit!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. The Case of the Runaway Groom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is slightly Anthony centric for reasons, next chapter is Kanthony galore I promise!</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <em>
    <span>At the Wedding…</span>
  </em>
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  <span>Naturally, nothing went as planned.</span>
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  <span>Kate should have expected this outcome considering in the short time she’d been in their acquaintance when had any of Bridgeton’s plans gone without a hitch?</span>
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  <span>(None of them. Absolutely none of them.)</span>
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  <span>She glanced down at the bouquet in her hand, the fiery orange tulips full and bright. A stark glow to the dull night. Dark clouds hung high in the sky, none of the stars visible. When Kate spotted the onslaught of clouds rolling in that morning she double then triple checked every reputable weather forecast website and app. </span>
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  <span>The clouds would not bring a thunderstorm, but one would come in the following day or two, on the Monday or Tuesday. A fierce summer storm. At the very least she wouldn’t have to worry about a rained on wedding, or worse, night terrors on her wedding night.</span>
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  <span>However the summer storm <em>did</em> decide to take up residence in Scotland. </span>
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  <span>Specifically Gretna Green.</span>
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  <span>“You can have your ceremony inside,” Daphne suggested to Anthony and Kate when the subject of the weather came up in the morning. “It’ll be afterhours, you can have your pick—”</span>
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  <span>“No,” Anthony was resolute. He remained in the corner of the kitchen, making himself coffee while Daphne covered and confirmed little details with Kate. Or rather, Daphne was <em>telling</em> Kate all her plans while Kate nodded along, not having much of an opinion on anything besides the flowers. She wanted tulips and Daphne was more than happy to have a bouquet made for her. “We aren’t going to get married during possibly the biggest summer storm this season.”</span>
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  <span>Daphne huffed. “Anthony, it’s not that big of deal—”</span>
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  <span>“To me it is,” he insisted, not saying why. “If we have to do it here, then let’s do it here. I am not going to drive to Scotland in the rain and I am not going to get married during a storm. I’m not.”</span>
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  <span>His sister tutted, turning to Kate imploringly. “Well since the groom has spoken, does the bride have any opinions? Since it is technically <em>her</em> big day just as much, if not more than, yours, brother.” Daphne’s snappish reply was met with an eye roll from Anthony and poorly muffled snort from Kate.</span>
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  <span>“Actually…I agree with Anthony,” Kate said, unapologetic. “I am not keen on the idea of marrying during a storm. Or traveling during a storm.”</span>
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  <span>Daphne’s exasperated gasp echoed across the kitchen. “You two are impossible!” Taking a deep breath, she picked up her phone. “Then I will call my friend at Gretna Green and cancel,” she huffed. “At the very least he’ll still owe me a favor after this.” She marched out of the room, not entirely pleased by springing into a cheerful-customer service-like voice on her phone call.</span>
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  <span>Weather changed plans. Naturally.</span>
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  <span>As Anthony suggested they decided to have the impromptu ceremony at Aubrey Hall. Daphne knew the perfect place, one of the trails on the estate leading to a the ‘perfect’ gazebo. Her words, not either Kate nor Anthony’s.</span>
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  <span>The other siblings made haste to adjust to the new plans. Carpools were cancelled and carefully planned escaped to the trail were planned. The Non-Bridgerton’s were quick to join in the brigade, secrets horribly kept in the Aubrey Hall. All tried their best to be mum—as to Anthony’s orders—whenever Violet came downstairs, a rare occurrence as she had taken to staying in her room for the day. </span>
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  <span>Kate tried to help, only to be shooed away back to her room by the Bridgerton sisters. </span>
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  <span>“We are taking care of this,” Daphne told her, walking Kate back to her room. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. Play with Newton, sketch, do whatever it is you want to do until I come by to help you get ready.”</span>
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  <span>“But I want to help—”</span>
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  <span>“Let your new brothers and sisters take care of everything.” Daphne beamed at her as she ushered Kate into the room. “We want to do this for you and Anthony. That’s what families do.”</span>
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  <span>Kate wasn’t usually one to burst into tears, least of all in front of someone like Daphne. The only people who’d seen her cry more than a handful of times were Mary, Edwina, and Anthony.</span>
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  <span>But the unforeseen sob broke through. </span>
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  <span>Embarrassment flooded Kate, she covering her burning face with her hands. “I’m sorry,” she sputtered. “I don’t know where—” A shaky, shuddery exhale wracked her body, from her chest out. “I’m sorry.”</span>
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  <span>“What are you apologizing for?” Daphne asked, helping Kate sit down on the edge of the bed. “It’s okay to cry. A lot of emotions today. A lot,” she assured her, brushing away Kate’s stray curls. “Crying is natural.”</span>
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  <span>Kate wiped her nose with her sleeve, hating how snot began to pool. </span>
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  <span>“Tell me what’s wrong,” Daphne pressed, taking Kate’s free hand in her own. “I know we aren’t extremely close yet, but please feel free to tell me anything and I’ll listen. You did the same for me.” She squeezed her hand lightly. “I do care about you, Kate.”</span>
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  <span>Huffing a breath out, Kate’s shoulders slump and caved into herself. Daphne’s kind and caring spirit was infectious, a sisterly tenderness Kate did not realize she needed until the woman sat beside her. </span>
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  <span>“Seeing all of you run around and help, makes me wish Mary and Edwina were here,” Kate confessed. Her eyes fluttered, fresh tears running freely. “I didn’t tell them about the wedding. Just the engagement. I didn’t want them to worry about me or tell me I was making a mistake.” She shook her head, scoffing under her breath. “Because this isn’t like me, Daphne. I’m not spontaneous. I’m a planner and creature of habit. I don’t jump without looking—I don’t. And that’s what I’m doing.”</span>
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  <span>Daphne shifted to face Kate, nudging her to do the same. “Are you getting cold feet? It’s okay to have cold feet,” she said in earnest, holding both Kate’s hands in hers. </span>
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  <span>“No,” Kate assured her, “no. I want to marry Anthony. I do. I really do. I am sure. I’m just discovering I might care a whole lot of what other people think; more than I initially believed.”</span>
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  <span>“Caring what your family thinks isn’t a bad thing,” Daphne said in all seriousness. “Caring what your family thinks means you are close to them and care about their opinion. While I don’t know Mary and Edwina well enough…I know they love you and I like to think they’d want you to be happy.”</span>
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  <span>“They do,” Kate said, confident in Mary and Edwina. All her life Mary’s greatest wish was for her girls to be happy, telling both Kate and Edwina this as much as she expressed her love for the girls. Kate did not doubt her family; she only doubted herself.</span>
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  <span>“Then you have nothing to worry about.” Daphne patted her hand. “Dry your eyes. A bride should be smiling on her day.”</span>
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  <span>Once Daphne took her leave, Kate was able to better compose herself. She cuddled Newton and spent her time clearing her email, desperately needing something to do. She couldn’t sit still knowing what was to come. Restless energy consumed every inch of her.</span>
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  <span>Tired of being a sitting duck in her room, she had left to find Anthony, knowing he must have been as jittery and fidgety as her. Or at least distracting himself with whatever project he could get his hands on.</span>
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  <span>Except when she went to his study, she found it empty. </span>
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  <span>The same could be said for his bedroom and all the other common rooms.</span>
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  <span>Spotting Benedict coming back into the house, Kate quickly caught up with him. “Ben—have you seen Anthony? I can’t find him anywhere.”</span>
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  <span>His brows furrowed. “He didn’t tell you?”</span>
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  <span>“Tell me what?”</span>
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  <span>“He had to go run a quick errand,” Benedict explained, “wouldn’t tell me what it was about. Said it was for the,” he eyed the foyer warily, before whispering, “<em>wedding. </em>He said he’d be back before the ceremony and to not worry.” He shrugged. “Anthony’s good at keeping to his schedules.” Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Since you’re here do you want to hear what I have so far for my little speech and bits?”</span>
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  <span>“I’m sure it’s great,” Kate said, unable to hide her annoyance over Anthony disappearance. </span>
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  <span>“Kate—don’t worry,” Benedict rested comforting hand on her shoulder, “he’ll be back in time. We still have like…six hours? We’re fine. He probably ran out of a toiletry or something and needed to pop to a shop,” he said with a crooked smile. “Relax and go have some tea, eat a biscuit, go take your dog for a walk. Everything’s handled.”</span>
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  <span>Kate listened to Benedict.</span>
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  <span>And she hated she listened to Benedict because now she stood under a gazebo, half past twilight, dressed for a wedding with no groom in sight.</span>
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  <span>“I am sure he is on his way,” Daphne muttered from beside her. Turning to her husband, she swatted his shoulder. “<em>Call him again</em>,” she gritted out.</span>
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  <span>Simon stepped away, doing as told. He was only a few feet away when he cursed under his breath. “It keeps going to voicemail.”</span>
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  <span>Biting her lips together, Kate willed herself to maintain her collectedness. Crying would not solve anything, especially not the case of the missing groom. </span>
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  <span>She twisted the bouquet in her hand, the firm stems quietly creaking at the bend.</span>
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  <span>The rest of his family and their partners watched her, pity and concern shinning in her eyes. </span>
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  <span>God, she did not need the Bridgerton’s looking at her like she was kicked puppy. From the front row of seats, Violet met her gaze, warm and comforting. Motherly—like she wanted to run up to Kate and wrap her in all-encompassing hug and never let her go.</span>
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  <span>Kate wanted Mary. She wanted Edwina. She wanted her dad.</span>
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  <span>Oh how desperately she wanted her <em>dad</em>.</span>
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  <span>Miles would have the right words to make her smile. He’d go out on a personal mission to find Anthony and shake sense into him. He’d make him swear to not pull a stupid stunt like this again and apologize.</span>
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  <span>But Miles Sharma-Sheffield wasn’t there.</span>
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  <span>However, Kate liked to believe she was her father’s daughter.</span>
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  <span>She handed off her bouquet to Daphne.</span>
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  <span>“Kate—what are you doing?” she called after her. Kate hiked up the skirts of her blush gown and climbed down from the gazebo. “Where are you going?”</span>
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  <span>“I’m going to find Anthony,” she shot over her shoulder. “<em>And kill him</em>,” she muttered under her breath. She was going to kill him. Marry him, then kill him. </span>
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  <span>“He’s not answering his phone, Kate!” Simon hurried after her, the footsteps of the other Bridgertons echoing behind them.</span>
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  <span>She marched down the cobbled path of the trail, glad Daphne had the sense to put her flat shoes. “Doesn’t mean I can’t find him!”</span>
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  <span>Small lawn lights lit the path, Kate minding her steps and the hem of her dress as she led the way back down to Aubrey Hall. She had a good few feet ahead of the rest of the family, expecting them to fall further behind as her pace quickened.</span>
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  <span>Yet one proved her wrong.</span>
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  <span>Violet came to her side. She looped an arm with Kate’s and held her close. “This is not like Anthony,” she insisted, steadying Kate as they came towards the end of the trail. “He wouldn’t do something like this.”</span>
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  <span>“I know,” Kate said. “Which makes me concerned.”</span>
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  <span>“Thank you,” Violet said, a shaky, sad smile on her lips.</span>
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  <span>“What for?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“For knowing him,” Violet said, “not many take the time to really do. He’s not easy to like or love. But you, you see him. The good and the bad.” She held their grasped hands to her chest. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Together they made their way back to the house, the rest of the ragtag wedding party behind them.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p>
<hr/><p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em>
    <span>Several Hours Earlier…</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You know if the entire house knows about you and Kate running off to get married,” Benedict leaned on the side of Anthony’s desk, studying his older brother’s perpetual frown, “Mother <em>will</em> find out.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Your point?” Anthony asked, clicking away on his laptop.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Mother will know about the wedding and how you do not want her there,” Benedict stated plainly. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His brother continued to work away on the keyboard. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Benedict snapped the laptop shut.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Hey!” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You are getting married today and you are <em>working</em>?” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Behind his glasses, Anthony blinked owlishly at him. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Because you’re getting <em>married</em>,” Benedict repeated. “You should be, I don’t know, buzzing with excitement.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Who says I’m not?” Anthony argued, leaning back in his chair. He kicked his feet up on the edge of the desk. “I’m buzzing <em>so</em> much, I have all this energy and nowhere to put it!” He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. His brother gave a near childish pout, glaring out the window. “Daphne won’t let me see Kate. Daphne won’t let me help with the prep in any way. Daphne won’t let me do <em>anything</em>,” Anthony spat, enunciating sharply. “I hate this.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Do you have wedding bands?” Benedict asked. “That’s one thing you can do. Maybe?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony nodded once, sluggish. “Yes,” he picked up an loose paper with scribbles, crumpling it in his fist, “I literally have an entire safe full of heirloom rings. I found wedding bands that work.” He tossed the crumpled paper in the air. He caught it with ease. “I even pulled up PDFs of the paperwork we’d need to fill out and submit later. That’s actually what I was doing before you slammed my laptop closed.” He looked up at Benedict, at ease. Oddly at ease. “I wasn’t working.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Good,” Benedict nodded. He scooted closer to his brother, keeping his grimace at bay. “Now back to Mother—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I know she will know,” Anthony droned. “No one in this house can keep a goddamn secret. And if you do manage to keep a secret, it blows up. Spectacularly,” he grumbled. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“She’ll be hurt.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Maybe I want her to be hurt.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Benedict’s eyes narrowed sharply on his older brother. “I know you and Mother have your…your moments, but she is still our mother. The only parent we have left. I don’t understand what happened to you two yesterday—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Do you <em>really</em> think I planned to propose yesterday?” Anthony interjected. “After I said I wasn’t. After I was shocked at the mere suggestion?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“No—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You weren’t there when it happened,” Anthony bit out, hands gripping the armrest of his chair. “None of you were there except for Hyacinth. And don’t even get me started on <em>that</em>.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head to the heavens. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“If it’s any consolation Hyacinth is apparently heartbroken over a boy,” Benedict informed him. “Danbury’s grandson?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“St. Clair?” Anthony mused. His nose wrinkled. “Isn’t he three years older than her?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Barely spoke to the boy.” Benedict shrugged. “She hasn’t left her room since last night.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony sighed gravely, clearly bothered for the sake of their youngest sister. “I don’t like it,” he muttered, gripping his hands together. “Doesn’t he live in the States?” Benedict nodded. “Then we have nothing to worry about and Hyacinth will get over him, as all teenage crushes do.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Don’t think I’m not noticing what you are doing,” Benedict shoved Anthony’s feet off the desk, “you’re avoiding the matter of Mother and the wedding—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“She forced me to propose,” Anthony told him, agitated at the topic. “Forced me. Because Kate and I looked bad. Really bad,” he rubbed his eyes, “and we did. I do agree with Mother there.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“But look at this way,” Benedict grinned, kicking Anthony’s foot, “if it wasn’t for Mother, you wouldn’t be marrying Kate. The woman you love.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony didn’t say anything. Instead, he stared up at the portrait of Father behind Benedict.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Father would be upset with me for yelling at Mother,” Anthony subtle confession did not go unnoticed by Benedict, “he’d be furious with me.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Father could never be furious with you.” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Benedict could not recall an instance of when Father ever raised his voice at Anthony. Edmund Bridgerton was a kind, compassionate, and jovial spirit. Even when he and his brothers did their worst, Edmund would not yell nor allow himself to be consumed with anger. Yes, he’d been disappointed, plenty of times. Yet somehow the quiet disappointment was the worst reaction imaginable. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Father adored Anthony. While Edmund loved all his children abundantly, with Anthony it was different. Anthony was the eldest, the first born and first son. Benedict was never jealous of their relationship, understanding to a degree his older brother needed his father more than him. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His Father once claimed in passing Anthony was a wonderfully strange mix of both his and Violet’s personalities. Benedict never understood the comment—Anthony was Anthony.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>But over the years he witnessed it, especially the older his brother became. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony was a lot like Mother, even if he’d refuse to see it. Their tempers, stubbornness, moodiness. Always wanting to help. Good motives, occasionally terrible executions. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Can I paint a picture for you?” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony raised his eyebrows, head cocked to the side. “Don’t you always paint pictures?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Not a real picture,” Benedict drawled out, “but a hypothetical one.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His brother waved for him to continue.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Imagine thirty years from now,” Benedict began, “you and Kate have children, Probably four or five. A couple of boys, a couple of girls. All of them are either in or near adulthood. They are the best thing that has ever happened to you and you’d do <em>anything</em> for them. You protect them in any way you know how.” Pausing, he spared a glance to his brother. Anthony sat terribly somber, but he was listening. Benedict just needed him to listen. “You and Kate are throwing a party for your thirtieth wedding anniversary right here at Aubrey Hall. We are all here. It’s fun. We all get a bit drunk then—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“<em>Then</em>?” Anthony pressed, unamused.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Then,” Benedict gritted before resuming his relaxed hypothetical, “your eldest son—because you will have an eldest son—is caught making-out with the woman you all want him to not screw it up with. You all like Millie—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony rocked back on in his chair, slumping into his seat. “Oh, so these hypothetical people have names now?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Yes,” he said, undeterred by his brother’s snarkiness, “Edmund, your son, and Millie, the girlfriend—they are caught sneaking out and making out and it looks bad. Bad in front of everyone, after all he is a notorious bachelor and he is finally settling down, but now <em>this</em>.” Anthony’s glower burned into his skin, but Benedict did not care. He received enough of his brother’s petulant wraths to last a life time; another would hardly harm him. “What would you do? Save his ass and the girl’s reputation by any means necessary or…let their names be dragged, along with the family name, and possibly let your son lose the only woman who can tame him?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony’s jaw locked so tight, Benedict was sure he’d pull a muscle.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I would help him,” came his brother’s grumbled, gritted reply. “By any means necessary.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Like how Mother did?” Benedict asked simply. “For you and Kate?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Face clouded in annoyance and guilt, Anthony shot up from his chair and pushed past Benedict. “Tell her. Don’t tell. I don’t care at this point,” Anthony declared, making his way over to the door. “She’ll find out, I’m sure of it. But I’m not going to be the one to invite her. You can do it.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“It’s not my wedding.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“But you’re my best man,” Anthony countered.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“This is the first time I hearing this,” Benedict frowned. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Well I’m saying it now. You are officiant <em>and</em> best man. You take care of all things I don’t want to do. So you can invite Mother.” His brother opened the study door, taking his leave. “I’m going to go see, Kate.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!” Benedict called after him.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I’ve already seen her today—don’t think the superstition really applies now!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Benedict did not bother to stop his brother, letting him go. Anthony was a lost cause at the moment, too much on his mind. The wedding, Kate, his health. All of it. So Benedict set his sights on Mother who was rather belligerent about the news.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I know they are getting married.” She made tea for him, passing over his favorite mug.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Today.” He shifted in the seat beside her, looking out the large windows of the sunroom. Mother always took her tea in the sunroom when they were at Aubrey Hall. Didn’t matter what was going on in the world or their family, tea time was tea time.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I know,” Mother stressed again, lifting her cup and saucer. She took a frowning sip. “Your siblings are not as sneaky as they think they are.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I’m aware,” Benedict sighed out. “That is why I am telling you personally. Anthony would like you there.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>The corner of Violet’s mouth downturned. “Did he say that, or are you putting words into his mouth?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Damn, she knew him too well. “He implied he wants you there,” he amended. “The wedding is not going to be at Gretna Green like originally planned. A summer storm has taken residence there. Apparently Anthony has a strong dislike for rain,” he remarked, utterly confused.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Violet apparently shared the sentiment. “Anthony loves rain. He went storm chasing with Colin that one summer.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“He now hates it with a passion,” he told her. “Daphne told me he wouldn’t budge.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Both Benedict and Violet hummed into the rims of their cups, the two finding Anthony’s sudden lack of affinity for the rain odd.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Kate must not like rain,” Violet said, confident in her conclusion. “He probably didn’t want Kate to be embarrassed and took the blame.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His mother was probably right, Benedict not bothering to argue against the idea. “The wedding will be here. At the gazebo.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Mother sniffed. Hands shaking she set down her tea and reached for the cloth napkin on the table. While tears did not fall, she clung to the napkin for dear life. “I always wanted one of my children to get married here.” A watery smile graced her lips. “And I knew it would be Anthony. He loves Aubrey Hall.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“He does.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Quietly she dapped under her eyes. “I am assuming this is not a legal ceremony,” she asked.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“No. They are planning to send the paperwork later in the week,” Benedict answered. “So…they really are doing this. Getting married. And you should be there.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“He doesn’t want me there. I can tell,” she muttered, picking back up her tea.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Benedict wasn’t going to let her push him away, or act like she didn’t care. Mother did care; she cared too much. “You should be there,” he repeated, leaning over to meet her gaze. “One of their parents should be there. If Anthony does not care, I am sure Kate will.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Mother blinked back at him, watery eyes becoming incredibly stern. “One of their parents? What do you—is Mary not going to be there? Or what about Edwina?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Based off of what Anthony told me, Kate seems hesitant to tell them. Nervous maybe, since the engagement was sudden and now the spontaneous wedding…” He trailed off, wincing for his future sister-in-law. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Violet set aside her tea, shooting up from her seat. “I cannot believed your brother. I swear he is payback I am receiving from a past life. I need to go speak with him.” She excused herself, marching out of the sunroom.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Realizing where his mother was going, Benedict dashed after her. “Mother! Mother, slow down!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Violet paid no mind to him, striding through the foyer and straight into Anthony’s study without pause.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You are going to get up out of that chair and figure out a way to get Mary and Edwina here, oh so god help me there will be no wedding if I can help it,” Violet demanded the moment she set eyes on Anthony. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You cannot come barging into my study and yell at me like I am some child,” Anthony spat, rising to his feet. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I will if you are acting like one.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Standing in the study doorway Benedict began to inch his way out. “This seems like an Anthony and Mother conversation—"</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Benedict get in here!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“<em>Benedict, shut the door, damn it</em>!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>With no other options before him, Benedict stepped into the study and shut the door behind him. He smartly stayed out of the crossfire, keeping to the wall and door.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Violet faced Anthony once more, arms crossed over her chest. “I apologize for barging in like this and saying you are acting like a child,” she began, solemn, “and for every other thing I have said that hasn’t—that hasn’t been the best. But I need you to listen to me and listen to me well.” For once Anthony didn’t have a snappy remark. “You are not going to marry Kate without her family here. I won’t allow it. It is not right, and you know it.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His brother chewed his lips together, considering his next words carefully. He avoided Mother’s gaze, choosing to stare out over her shoulder. “She didn’t want them to come,” he sounded broken by this, “I don’t know why.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Did you ask?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Yes,” Anthony’s hurt was palpable, “of course I asked her why. She claimed it would be too short notice and she didn’t want them to worry.” He shrugged restlessly, clearly bothered. “I know that’s not the entire truth. Kate loves her family too much to not have them here for today, but I am not going to argue with her wishes.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Mother took a deep breath, hands clasped together. “I’m going to give you a small piece of advice about marriage, Anthony—sometimes you <em>need</em> to argue when something is bothering your partner.” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His jaw tensed. “I know—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“No, you don’t,” Mother said softly, stepping closer to Anthony. “You’ve never been married. None of your relationships ever lasted longer than a few months. You don’t know because <em>this</em> happened. Of course Kate wants Edwina and Mary to be here. She’s getting married! She adores her family. She doesn’t have a strained relationship with them, you know that. So something about this—the wedding or the engagement chaos is bothering her. Maybe she’s overwhelmed—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“We’re all a bit overwhelmed,” Anthony countered curtly.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“But it’s different for her.” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Neither Anthony nor Mother said anything, locked in their own silent stare down. A fraction of his brother broke under their mother’s gaze, he ducking away, swallowing tightly.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I think…” Anthony began, “she doesn’t want them to know why we are getting married fast.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“It’s the question on all our minds,” Mother quipped. “I am chalking it up as young love making you two do crazy things. But I feel like this not the entire truth.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Watching Anthony dance around the issue was agony, Benedict could not stand it. “Just tell Mother, Anthony. She should know.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Tell me what?” Mother’s gaze darted between the two. “What is it Anthony?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>The glare Anthony sent him did nothing to Benedict. He trapped his brother between a rock and hard place, and he didn’t regret a bit. He was tied of avoiding Mother’s question, everyone’s questions really, and as much as he loved his brother, he didn’t want him to keep all his problems close to his chest.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I might be ill. I don’t know,” Anthony said quick and blunt. “My test results have yet to come in, but the doctor sure as hell made it sound like I might have something <em>not good</em>. And gave me a pamphlet of the choices I would need to make if I was <em>not good,</em> and a lot of them had <em>not so good</em> percentages of survival rates so you can imagine I am <em>not good</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Violet dropped down into the nearest armchair, aghast. “Anthony, why haven’t you said anything?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Because I could have something or nothing,” he tried to brush off. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“But this unknown is causing you anxiety. Terrible anxiety,” she stressed.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I told Benedict and Colin,” Anthony waved to Benedict as if he was physical evidence. “And Kate. So I have technically said something to some people.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Oh, my son,” Violet breathed out, hands clasped together on her lap. “Suddenly everything makes a whole lot more sense now.” She turned to Benedict, eyebrows raised. “I knew you were dying inside to tell me about this. Your face said it all.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Helplessly, Benedict shrugged. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Thankfully, Anthony stopped his glaring, more concerned with their mother.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You’re an adult and you can make any decision you want to make in regards to your life,” Violet said gently. “And while I have my own opinions…I’m not going to stop you from marrying Kate because I can tell you really love her and care for her.” Her firmness then returned in full. “But you are going to do this right and get her family here. You don’t want her to live with any regret of this day.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony nodded jerkily. “Okay, okay.” He inhaled sharply, head snapping up to look at Mother. “I’m sorry, Mama. For last night. For wanting to keep the wedding from you. For pushing you away all this time.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Benedict’s throat tightened at the sight of his brother’s pained expression. He’d never seen his brother cry as an adult, except for when Father passed. He felt like an intrude to his brother’s private self. Yet Anthony did not shoo him away or yell for him to leave when his eyes flashed over to him. Instead he nodded once and cleared his throat, acknowledging him.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Mother rounded to Anthony’s side of the desk and pulled him into a fierce hug. Perhaps their first genuine hug in years.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony crumpled into their mother’s hold, looking like a young boy coming home. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Benedict looked away from the two, feeling oddly relieved to see them being nice and civil with each other. He glanced at his watch—</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Shit.” It was already two in the afternoon. “Anthony hate to break up the love fest, but if you want to get Edwina and Mary here on time for the wedding, you need to figure out what to do <em>now</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“It might be too late to get them on a train over here,” Violet said breaking up their hug. She wiped under her eyes and haste and got down to business. “How about calling them and sending a car?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“And I don’t know how well they’ll take the news over the phone,” Anthony confessed. “Kate said Edwina sounded frazzled.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Then you need to go pick them up,” Benedict suggested, seeing no other option.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“It would be too late,” Anthony raked his hands through his hair, stress marring his face, “god—I am screwing this up already.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“No, you’re not,” Mother insisted, gripping his arm in encouragement. “If you leave now, you will be able to come back in time.” She turned to Benedict. “We can stall for as long as possible. Having the wedding here means there is no draining time frame—only don’t make us wait too long. You just need to get them here and tell them how much you care for Kate so they don’t think you two are insane for doing this.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Her and Mother quickly ushed Anthony out of the study, the latter frantically gathering all his necessary belongings for the drive. “What are you going to tell Kate if she asks where I am at?” he asked, attempting to shrug on a jacket and pocket his wallet and keys all in one go. “I don’t want her to know in case it doesn’t work out.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“We’ll handle it,” Mother assured him. “Don’t worry.” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>All three gathered at the foyer, Anthony wide eyed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Stop talking!” Benedict shoved him out the door. “Go!” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His brother bolted out of the house, hurrying over to garage unit for his car.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Benedict turned to his mother. “I’ll handle Kate, and you handle Wedding Planner-zilla Daphne?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Just what I was going to suggest,” Mother hurried her way over towards the den, where Daphne had made her unofficial planning headquarters. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Just as Benedict was going to leave to check in on Kate, he spotted a mobile phone on the floor. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony’s phone.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Goddamn it—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Benedict!” Hyacinth came running down the stairs. She was dressed for the day, no longer lounging around sadly in her pajamas. “I need to talk to Anthony—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“He left,” Benedict blurted out. “Or well, he’s leaving,” he clarified.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“What?” Hyacinth gapped. “Why? Aren’t he and Kate—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“How fast can you run?” he asked, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her to the front door.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Fast, I guess,” she answered dubiously as she tried wiggling out of his hold. “Why?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I need you to run this to Anthony at the garage unit,” Benedict order, flinging open the door and pushing her out. “Run. Run as fast as you can before he leaves!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Catching his urgency, Hyacinth followed his orders without any arguing for once, running away. Once he saw her reach the garage unit, Anthony’s car yet pulling away, Benedict sighed in relief.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He’d at least have his phone.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Ben—have you seen Anthony? I can’t find him anywhere.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Benedict whipped around, Kate coming down the stairs, her brows set in a scary determinedness he had learned to appreciate when it was <em>not</em> directed at him. “He didn’t tell you?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Tell me what?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“He had to go run a quick errand,” Benedict explained, cobbling up together a half-decent lie, “wouldn’t tell me what it was about. Said it was for the,” he eyed the foyer warily, before whispering, “<em>wedding. </em>He said he’d be back before the ceremony and to not worry.” He shrugged. “Anthony’s good at keeping to his schedules.” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Kate did not look convinced, her arms crossing stubbornly over her chest.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He promised to distract her; he <em>had</em> to distract her, knowing Anthony and Mother wouldn’t be too happy if he failed his part of this ruse.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Since you’re here do you want to hear what I have so far for my little speech and bits?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I’m sure it’s great,” Kate said, annoyance creeping into her tone. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Kate—don’t worry,” Benedict rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, “he’ll be back in time. We still have like…six hours? We’re fine. He probably ran out of a toiletry or something and needed to pop to a shop,” he said with a crooked smile. “Relax and go have some tea, eat a biscuit, go take your dog for a walk. Everything’s handled.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Her dark, too intelligent eyes narrowed on him. “Fine. I guess I’ll go back upstairs and kill time until I have to get ready.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Remember it’s bad luck to see the groom before the wedding. So don’t worry a hair about him!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Her nose wrinkled as she turned back to the stairs. “I was with Anthony this morning and a couple of hours ago. A bit late for that superstition.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Benedict’s smile dropped. Anthony said an eerily similar thing to him earlier in the day. “My god, there really <em>is</em> someone out there for everyone,” he grumbled under his breath, watching her disappear back upstairs.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He could keep an eye on Kate. A simple task.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>It was everyone else he was concerned about.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p>
<hr/><p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Can I turn on the radio?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“<em>No</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>In the passenger seat, Hyacinth pursed her lips and clucked her tongue. “I thought a road trip would be more exciting.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony refrained from turning the car back around and kicking her out. He had a short time frame and a detour was not possible. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I did not ask you to come,” Anthony reminded his youngest sister. “In fact I explicitly told you <em>not</em> to come.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“But someone should keep you company.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I don’t want company right now and you didn’t give me a choice when you flung open the door while I was driving!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I was giving you your phone!” Hyacinth cried out, waving to the phone in the cup holder between them. “I had no option but to climb in and give it to you!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You gave me the biggest fright of my life,” he shot back, keeping his eyes on the road. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Sometimes you need a good fright in your life.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Taking a deep breath, he silently reminded himself he loved Hyacinth. She was a teenager who did stupid things because that’s what teenagers did. Stupid, reckless, idiotic things like climbing into a moving car and insisting on accompanying their older brother on his drive.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Not to mention out of all his siblings Hyacinth was the most difficult to say ‘no’ to. Anthony loved all his sisters, but Hyacinth held a special place in his heart. She always would. Sure, she was his biggest headache, causing trouble left and right, but he knew he was partial to blame for her behavior.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He and Mother let her get away with too much in her childhood and now she was a teenager who acted upon her mischief and had been removed from more than a handful of private schools during her adolescence. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Some odd years ago he recalled reading how siblings from different generations were products of different versions of their parents and how it showed in their personalities. Anthony and Benedict were products of their young parents, while Daphne and Eloise were good examples of when their parents were older, more seasoned in parenthood.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Hyacinth however…Anthony knew she was a product of his twenties, he more often stepping in as a substitute father for her than any of his other siblings besides Gregory. And while he acknowledged his mother absolutely had a hand in raising Hyacinth, Violet became far more laid back in her parenting when it came to her youngest, understandable so.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He’d never claim Hyacinth was his child, always referring to her as his little sister. But he saying he was simply her older brother did not adequately describe their relationship.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Which was why he wanted to talk her before the wedding. She climbing into his car (recklessly and nearly sending him into a fit) gave him the perfect opportunity to do so, even if it had not felt like it at the time.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You can put on the radio,” he finally relented, “if you want.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Hyacinth perked, pressing buttons and twisting the dial.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“No EDM or any of that shit,” he added a moment later.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>She deflated, tuning to a soft pop station. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>An old Adele song came through the speakers, Hyacinth humming along half-heartedly. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he turned down the music. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“So you’re marrying Kate,” Hyacinth said, cutting off Anthony before he could get a word out. “I’m surprised.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Really?” he asked, mockingly. “Because dare I say, it was partially from your doing.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His sister sunk in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. “I was helping.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You were not help,” Anthony deadpanned. “In fact, I don’t think anyone noticed the ring <em>until</em> you pointed it out.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Someone had to,” she argued lightly. “I did you a favor.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His sister wasn’t going to acknowledge how much trouble she caused, and Anthony realized as she continued to hum along to the radio, she never would. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He sighed. “Do you like her?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Kate.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>She scoffed, looking at him like he grew two heads. “Of course I like Kate! Why wouldn’t I like Kate?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I was just asking,” Anthony sputtered, not expecting such an offended reaction. “I felt it was important to ask.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Well I do. I wouldn’t have done what I did if I didn’t,” she explained as it was <em>so</em> obvious and logical. “I’m excited for her to join the family.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Me too.” He spared a glance to Hyacinth. She leaned lazily against the window, her legs curled up to her chest as she watched the passing scenery. “You do know that somethings will change, with me getting married.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His sister side eyed him. “Yes…” she drawled out. “You <em>do</em> know you are not my first sibling to get married, right?” she snarked back.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I know,” he said in the same manner. “But the relationship you and Daphne have I think is very different than what you and I have.” He gave her a tentative glance. “And I want to make sure you are okay with this.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I’m fine.” Her voice cracked.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Hyacinth—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I mean, it’s not like we live in the same house anymore. We haven’t in ages except for the summer,” she reasoned. “I go to school for part of the year anyways, so it’s not like I see you.” She shrugged, except the nonchalance did not reach her eyes. “But you’re still going to visit me, right? And I can still come over during my breaks?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Of course Hyacinth,” Anthony quickly assured her. He didn’t want her to cry; he dealt with enough crying for the last week, he didn’t need more of it. Then there was the fact he was never good when Hyacinth cried; he almost always bent to her will when the waterworks came on. “All I was going to say was I won’t be living at the flat anymore.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“What?” her eyebrows jumped. “Where are you and Kate going to live?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>They had…not thought that far yet.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Oh my god, you don’t know where you and Kate are going to live.” Hyacinth cackled, clapping her hands together. “Oh this is hilarious. I need to send it into the group chat—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“No, you won’t.” He blindly swatted at her phone. “Not everyone knows I am gone.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Ouch,” she winced, “does Kate even know?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He shook his head.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“So you are…the runaway groom?” she asked cheekily.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I’m not running away. I’m coming back.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“That’s not what it’s going to look like to everyone else,” she warned with sing-y-song tone. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Everyone else is not going to find out,” he said, echoing her tune. “Because we will be back in time.” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>She rolled her eyes, clearly not believing in him. “So you say.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Enough about me,” Anthony said, “what is this I hear about a <em>Gareth</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>A disgruntled, banshee groan came from Hyacinth, she crumpling in the passenger seat. “No! We are <em>not</em> talking about this! I don’t want to!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Doesn’t matter what you want, we are talking about it.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“How do you even <em>know</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You think I wouldn’t know?” Anthony asked, chuckling at her misfortune. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, Hyacinth. Nothing can get past me. Even a boy flirting with you.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I hate everyone in this family,” she grumbled pathetically. “None of you can keep anything to yourselves!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Danbury’s <em>grandson</em>,” he mused loudly, earning more outcry from his sister. “You know what, I think Mother has a photo of when you two were toddlers. You would have playdates whenever Gareth and his mother visited Danbury.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Hyacinth’s entire face flushed bright red. “Shut up.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I think I might ask her to find them.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Shut up!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Mother might even post it as a Throwback Thursday photo—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“No!” Hyacinth bemoaned. “No, no, no.” She slumped against the window once more. “It’s doesn’t even matter! <em>He</em> doesn’t even matter! He lives in the States and he’s older and he’s going to school there, and I <em>don’t</em> care about him!” She huffed, thoroughly miffed. “In fact, I hate him!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony eyebrows shot up. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He sighed, thrumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Well… my advice is…be careful who you hate. Because you might end up marrying them.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>A second passed, the joke not landing.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Then—</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“<em>Ugh</em>!” Hyacinth cried out in horror. “Are you going to be like this all the time now? Mushy-Gushy Anthony? Because, <em>ew</em>!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony laughed, hard. He wheezed, combusting into more laughs every time he glanced back at Hyacinth.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Maybe bring her along wasn’t so bad after all.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<hr/><p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“What do you mean you cannot find Anthony?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Simon kept his cool. Someone had to keep their cool when Daphne went into hysterics. “I mean, he is not in his room. In his study. In the library. Outside. The kitchen. The sunroom. Any of the bedrooms—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Stop listing locations,” Daphne groaned, sitting down at her vanity. “Did you ask any of my brothers or sisters of his whereabouts?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Eloise has no idea where he is at. She’s kind of busy with Phillip and kids setting up all those flowers at the gazebo?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Right,” Daphne nodded, waving for him to continue, “how about Francesca?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“She is hiding in her room until the wedding,” Simon answered, stilted. “Apparently she doesn’t want to see either of the Stirling cousins, so she’s taken to being a hermit.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Sounds like her.” Daphne snapped her fingers. “Colin and Pen?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Making out in the mudroom.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Daphne rolled her eyes. “They have two bedrooms to choose from and they choose the <em>mudroom</em>?” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Simon did not have an excuse or answer for his brother-in-law and brother-in-law’s girlfriend. “They are in the honeymoon stage of their relationship, what do you expect?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“True,” she mused. “How about the little ones?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Gregory and Hyacinth?” Simon asked, chuckling. “You know you cannot call them little forever?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“They will be little to me forever,” Daphne countered swiftly. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Gregory has taken to keeping Kate company, mostly playing with Newton.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Makes sense,” she tutted. “Glad someone’s with Kate. She was getting jittery earlier.” She then turned grave. “How about Hyacinth?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Haven’t seen her all day.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Poor thing is probably still heartbroken about her crush on St. Clair.” Daphne felt for her youngest sister, knowing crushes had a terrible habit of lifting and tearing at the soul. “I’ll have to check in on her late to see how she’s doing.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Just so you know, every single time I try to stop Benedict for a quick chat, he evades me.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Daphne’s eyes snapped to him, alight. “He knows where Anthony is!” She scrambled up and marched out of the room. “Benedict! I know you are here somewhere!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Simon dutifully followed after his wife.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Benedict!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Within moments of searching, Daphne located Benedict, backing him into a corner and interrogating him. Benedict’s answer was hushed only for Daphne’s ears, Simon not catch a words except—</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“He is <em>WHERE</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<hr/><p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I need to speak to a Mary Sharma-Sheffield. It’s urgent,” Anthony informed the hospital’s emergency wing receptionist. “Please,” he added as an afterthought. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>The young dark haired woman at the desk did not look up from her computer, typing away. “She is doing her rounds,” she droned. “If you are here in regards to a patient, I suggest you sit down—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I <em>need</em> to speak to Nurse Sharma-Sheffield,” Anthony stressed, hands braced on the counter. “It’s about her daughter.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Is it an emergency?” the receptionist asked, still not looking up from her work.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Yes,” Anthony stressed, realizing he was going to have to lie and use some charm to get his way. “It <em>is</em> an emergency regarding her eldest daughter and I need to speak to her immediately—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>The receptionist sighed, her typing halting. “Then you will need to wait until she is done with her rounds—” When she lifted her head from her work to finally look at him her jaw dropped. “You’re a —you’re a—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony winced, knowing where this was going.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“A <em>Bridgerton</em>,” she finally got out, “the one Lady Whistledown tweets about! The one who got engaged!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Yeah,” he eased out, reminding himself to be polite. “Yes, I am. And I need to speak to Mary Sharma-Sheffield—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You’re engaged to her daughter,” the receptionist pointed out. “The entire emergency floor staff went nuts last night at the news! Her daughter, the plain teacher-girl—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His eyes widened, offended. “I don’t think Kate’s plain. Far from it actually—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“—engaged to socialite! A billionaire!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Not a billionaire,” Anthony corrected. “Nor really a socialite. I try not to engage much with that side of society unless I have to—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Close enough,” the receptionist waved off. She spun around in her chair to the phone. “I’ll get ahold of Sharma-Sheffield for you,” she said, now all smiles. “She’s should be in room 515 now…”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Thanks,” Anthony said with a forced smile of his own. “That’s greatly appreciated.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Mary, your future son-in-law is here,” the young woman hissed delightedly into the receiver, “he’s even <em>handsomer</em> in person!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Biting his lips together, Anthony turned away from the receptionist’s stare and checked his watch.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>4:17PM</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He was cutting it close.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Can she get here faster?” he asked the receptionist, once she was off the phone. “When does her shift end?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Not until after seven.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His gut dropped. “Can someone cover for her?” Anthony asked, desperate.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>The receptionist eyebrows jumped. “That is a question for—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Anthony, what are you doing here?” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Looking to his right, he saw Mary speed walking over to his side. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Mary—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Is Kate okay?” she demanded. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“We’re both fine,” Anthony assured her.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>She turned to the receptionist. “Why did you say it was an emergency?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“<em>He</em> said it was an emergency,” the young woman pointed out.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I <em>did</em> say it was an emergency,” Anthony confirmed begrudgingly. “But we are both fine.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Then you need to redefine your definition of an emergency. You <em>are</em> speaking to an emergency wing nurse,” she reminded him sharply, eerily reminding him of Kate’s quippy responses.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Yes and I realize my mistake with using the term, but the matter is important,” he insisted. He checked his watch again—</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>4:23PM</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Do you have somewhere to be?” Mary asked.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“We have somewhere to be,” he said. Mary eyed him, wary. “Kate and I are getting married—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“—tonight.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You’re <em>what</em>?” Mary’s clipboard clattered to the ground. She did not bother to pick it up, her face growing in shock and fury. “How is that possible—” Fear consumed her. “Are you dying? Is that what happened? You had to get a special license and your dying?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You’re dying?” the receptionist squeaked.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I’m not dying,” Anthony hurried out. “At least, I don’t know if I am. I could be. I haven’t received my results—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You actually listened to me and went to the neurologist?” Mary asked, a stunned smugness to her. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Yes. I did. Because I have a family and a Kate who care for me. And I care for them. That’s why I did it.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>She nodded slowly. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony picked up her clipboard, handing it to her. “As I was saying, Kate and I decided to have a ceremony tonight. I know it’s soon. I know it’s random and I know you probably want to kill me for doing all this without you—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I don’t want to kill you, Anthony,” Mary droned, shaking her head in fondly. “Believe it or not, I’m not upset. Kate has always been an independent spirit, I figured when she did marry, she’d do it her own way.” Resting her arms on the tall receptionist desk counter, she dropped her chin in her hand, sighing deeply. “I’m happy if Kate is happy. And the happiest I have ever seen her is when she’s with you,” she confessed, glancing his way. “Don’t let that get to your head.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I’ll try not to,” Anthony quipped, leaning against the counter beside her. “But cannot make any promises.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“And I cannot attend the wedding.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>His smile dropped. “But she’d want you there—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“My shift doesn’t end for another few hours,” Mary explained. “I have a duty and responsibility to my work. People count on me. As much as I would love to go, I simply cannot.” She shrugged sadly. “That just means you and Kate will need to throw another wedding in the future. Maybe a not so rushed and secretive one?” she joked, patting his arm.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“But can’t someone cover for you? Just for tonight?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Mary sighed. “No—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Yes!” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>They both turned to the receptionist, stunned. She grinned brightly. “I just sent off a text to the floor group chat and several off-duty nurses are willing to fill in for you in the next half hour.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“What did you say?” Mary asked, astonished.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“The truth—your daughter is getting married to a Bridgerton tonight in a secret wedding.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony groaned, dropping his head into his folded arms. No one was supposed to know. Now an entire floor of nurses in London knew. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Mary was more delicate than him. “Thank you,” she smiled politely. “Thank you so much, Posey.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Happy to help!” The young woman grinned. “Your shift should be covered in the next half hour if you can wait.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Yes, absolutely,” Mary cheered, thrumming her hands against the counter. “I’m going to a wedding!” She picked up her clipboard. “Since I have a half hour, I’m going to finish up some notes and work. You,” she pointed to Anthony, “go get Edwina if you have not already. Come back for me once you get her, everything here should be in place by then.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Yes, ma’am.” Anthony waved her off, Mary walking away with a skip in her step. He turned back to the receptionist. “Thank you so much, Posy. I know my fiancée would appreciate it a lot.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Of course,” she grinned, “anything for family.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He frowned, confused. “Excuse me, did you say family?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>She nodded, waving him closer. Anthony leaned in, humoring her. “If you see Ethan Beckett, tell him his sister Posy says ‘hi’.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>All annoyances he had towards the woman melted away. She was Ethan’s sister. She wasn’t helping because she was obsessed with Whistledown (though that also might have been a driving factor). She helped because she knew who he was—a Bridgerton, and her brother was dating a Bridgerton.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“…And that I’ll reply to his text message later. I have late shift tonight,” she added with a smile giggle. She spun in her rolling chair, giddy. “Oo, I feel like I just played a part in a rom-com! Please take photos tonight. I am sure it will be so pretty.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“There will be photos,” he assured her. “I’ll make sure Ethan sends you plenty. So you can see the fruits of your efforts today.” He winked at her. “Like you said, anything for family.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Having Mary’s work shift in order and promises to pick her up in half hour to an hour, Anthony made haste to get to Edwina’s flat. He may have went over the speed limit and possibly cut off a few people, but he did earn Hyacinth’s respect.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I never knew you could drive this recklessly!” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Don’t you dare do what I just did,” Anthony warned, pulling up outside of Edwina’s place. “There is reason we have a road laws and we don’t drive the way I just did.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Hyacinth merely sighed, looking away from him. “Just when you became ten percent cooler…you have to ruin it.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Stay here. I’ll be back.” As he left his car and ambled up the steps of the building, Anthony checked his watch again.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>5:16PM</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>The wedding was due to start at 7:30PM. If Benedict and Mother followed through with their stalling, then maybe the wedding would be pushed to eight o’clock. Maybe.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He had time. He had <em>plenty</em> of time if he did not dally. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>At least Anthony told himself the mantra ‘he had time’ as he climbed the steps two at a time to Edwina’s flat. He rapt on her door, catching his breath.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Coming!” A voice called from within.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>The door swung open. Except it wasn’t Edwina.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Josie!” Anthony greeted, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. “I—uh—had no idea you’d be here.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I’m here most days lately,” she told him, a pink tinge on her cheeks. “What are <em>you</em> doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at Aubrey Hall in engagement bliss with Kate?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“<em>Jo-Jo, who is it</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Josie cringed at the pet name.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony muffled a chuckle. “‘Jo-Jo’?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Don’t you dare call me that,” she hissed at him. She turned back to the flat. “It’s uh—It’s Anthony!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“<em>What</em>!” A thump was heard from deep within the flat, followed by another, and a scatter of papers falling. Edwina’s head popped up beside Josie’s. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be ravishing Kate and planning your lives together!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I’m here to pick you up,” he then nodded to Josie, “pick both of you up I suppose?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Pick us up?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Kate and I are getting married tonight,” he said, ripping it off like a band-aid. “And we need to leave now so we can make it back in time—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Tonight?” Edwina gasped. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Breathe, Ed,” Josie told her.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Oh my god, tonight?” Edwina finally took a deep breath. “What about Mama—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Already has her shift cover, we are picking her up after this.” He checked his watch again. 5:21PM. “But we have to hurry. Kate doesn’t know I’m gone and this is a surprise. Because you and Mary need to be there.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Edwina beamed. “Oh, Anthony,” she threw her arms around him in a hug, he startled for a fleeting second before returning the hug, “you are the best! Thank you for coming to get us!” She pulled away from him and pushed Josie along. “Let us get dressed real quick and then we have to pop by my mum’s place to get her a dress. It’s not too far from here. I know which one to grab…” She continued to babble on, pulling Anthony into the messy and disarrayed flat. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Standing in the middle of the shoebox flat, Anthony frantically checked the time over and over. Watching as the minute ticked away, hoping he still had enough time. He’d hate to keep everyone waiting. He’d hate to keep <em>Kate</em> waiting.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Once Edwina and Josie were ready, they marched out of the flat with weekender bags and followed Anthony back to his car.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Hyacinth jumped when they came, dozing off in a nap while Anthony was gone. “We don’t have much time,” she mumbled, checking the alarm she set on her phone. “We have to leave by six—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I know.” Anthony’s anxiety spiked at the reminder. “We’ll get there in time. I’m sure of it.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>After taking one quick stop at Mary’s place, Edwina packed up a bag for her mother, they finally made it back to the hospital for Mary. With all of Kate’s immediate family collect, Anthony began his drive back to Aubrey Hall—</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>The digital clock on his dash shined 6:30PM.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony groaned.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He was going to be late.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>So fucking late.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p>
<hr/><p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em>
    <span>At the Wedding…</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Kate started undoing her hair the moment she stepped back into the house. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>While she appreciated the time Daphne had taken to twist all her curls into a neat updo, Kate was tired and fed up, not to mention the pins dug deep into her scalp.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Violet simply held her hand out of the pins, not remaking on Kate’s frantic fingers and fidgeting.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Violet murmured once they entered the downstairs powder room. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I don’t understand why he left,” Kate said, meeting Violet’s gaze through the mirror. “Why would he need to leave? Everything we needed was right here.” She yanked out a another handful of pins. “Something must have happened and he panicked. That’s what happened and I need to find him to find out what went wrong.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Why don’t you give it another ten, maybe fifteen minutes?” Violet suggested.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Reaching behind her head for a stray pin, Kate paused.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Violet kept saying that—<em>give him a few more minutes</em>.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You know where he is at, don’t you?” Kate spun around face Violet. The older woman remained demure, laying the abandoned pins on the sink vanity. “Where is he?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Perhaps somewhere between here and London,” Violet told her carefully. “But I wouldn’t worry. Like I said, give it another ten to fifteen minutes.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Violet wasn’t going to give her a direct nor definitive answer. She’d remain vague to protect her son, and Kate would expect no less.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Facing the mirror once more, she sighed heavily. Her hair hung limp on her shoulders, the press and hold of the updo-twist deflating her curls usual bounce. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony would be annoyed. He had a nasty habit of pulling on one of curls when he thought she wasn’t looking. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Her lips quirked up. Even when she was upset with him, her thoughts could not help but linger on him.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Kate,” Violet rested a hand on her shoulder, “please know Anthony would not leave or be late if wasn’t important. He left for a good reason.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I trust he did but—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Shouts echoed in the foyer.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“<em>You could have told us where you went</em>!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>At Daphne’s shout, Kate flew out of the powder room.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>She rounded the corner, immediately spotting Anthony, still dressed in street clothes and sporting a scruffy shadow along his jaw. Not at all ready for a wedding.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Do you know how worried we were!” Daphne smacked her brother in the chest with a bouquet. Thankfully not Kate’s, which happened to be held by a rather dispassionate Simon. “Do you know how you left Kate standing in the gazebo? All of us waiting together—” Another smack on the chest, Anthony simply taking his sister’s assault.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I told Benedict—” Another smack, petals falling to the floor. “—and Mother,” Anthony tried to explain, except this time he was whacked with a limp tulip to the face. “Daphne, stop!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Daff, you ruined the bouquet,” Eloise grumbled. “It’s all sad now and I did not spend my afternoon making those with you for <em>that</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Luckily, Eloise’s comment caused Daphne to stop, she sadly holding the bouquet. “Awe, poor flowers. I didn’t mean it,” her gaze snapped back up to Anthony, “but I meant what I did to you. Do you know how heartbroken Kate looked when you didn’t show?” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I left for a good reason—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>The front door opened again.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“<em>Mary</em>?” </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Kate’s feet started to move on their own accord at the sight of her step-mother, staring at her in disbelief. She never called her, never told about tonight or the wedding. How on earth—</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Kate!” Mary grinned brightly at her. Following after her was Edwin and Josie, both dressed for the occasion. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Forgetting about the long skirt of her dress and the Bridgertons surrounding her, Kate bolted across the foyer to her sister. She rammed into her little family, bring them into a tight embrace. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You’re here! You’re actually here! How—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Mary pulled away from her and nudged over Kate’s shoulder. Standing off to the side and watching them with an air of nonchalance and fighting off a budging smile was Anthony.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“He picked us up. Told us we had a the wedding to get to. We got here as soon as we could.” Mary ruffled Kate’s hair, drawing out the natural curls with her touch. “You have a very caring fiancé.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I do, don’t I?”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Giving her shoulder a squeeze, Mary ushed her off towards Anthony.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>He immediately dove into apologies. “I’m sorry I am late—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“You drove all way back to town to pick them up?” Kate asked. “You didn’t have to do that.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“I wanted to,” said Anthony, his warm gaze turning her inside out. “I could tell you wanted them here, even if you said you didn’t.” He offered her a secret, genuine smile—the one just for her. “I want you to be happy. Your family makes you happy.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Kate’s heart thudded in her chest, feeling seen and known through his words. Full force, she stepped into his space and wrapped her arms around him, never wanting to let him go. Anthony was quick to reciprocate, holding her to his chest and a firm kiss pressed to her forehead. “Thank you,” she murmured against his jacket.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Anything for my dearest friend,” he proclaimed quietly to her.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>She tilted her head up to him, baffled at his constant term of endearment. “You always say that.”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“What?” he blinked down at her, confused by the comment.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“How I’m your ‘dearest friend,’” she elaborated, blunt. “What does that even mean <em>now</em>? Now that we are far more than friends,” she added, rather matter of fact on their shift of relationship.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Anthony hesitated, at a loss for words. He brushed away a stubborn curl—always the same damn curl—away from her face. “It means—well it means I—”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Are we going to have a wedding or what?” Hyacinth called out, shutting the front door behind her. “I did not sit in the car with Anthony all afternoon listening to oldies and soft pop for there not to be a wedding!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>The quiet foyer sprung back into action, Anthony and Kate pulled apart by different fussing hands. </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“ Anthony, we need to get you dressed!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Kate, your hair—let’s just brush it out!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>“Someone go find the flood lights and plug them in by the gazebo! It’s probably dead-dark out there!”</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <span>Neither saw each other again until they stood under the gazebo, exchanging rings and vows.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did y'all REALLY think I would have Kate get married without Edwina and Mary there? Come on, I'm cruel and evil, but I'm not heartless!</p><p>And yes, next chapter is the wedding and after. I hope to get it up by Thursday or Friday. YES I am churning out this wedding-and-the-aftermath arc because I know all the cliffhangers and drama that happens will be difficult to sit with if posted between long waiting periods.</p><p>Some Notes~<br/>1. Murphy's Law shall be re-named Bridgerton Law, lol. Everything that can go wrong will go wrong with this family.</p><p>1.5. Always planned for them to get married at Aubrey Hall! Gretna Green was just a fun little thing to add. Also--a storm is coming...hmmm.</p><p>2. THE ANTHONY AND VIOLET RECONCILIATION. It has happened. Nothing is perfect, but it is a whole lot better.</p><p>3. Hyacinth and Anthony are one of my favorite siblings duos and I know I hardly write them together. That's because ALOT of the sequel has them together along with Kate. So that's something to look forward to!</p><p>4. Daphne and Simon have somehow became the "we are too old for this shit" couple and I don't know why but it suits them, lol. </p><p>5. Yeah I am using Sharma-Sheffield from here on out because I am honoring both Sharma and Sheffield of the series/show. I have started going through the fic and slowly changing the last name to this, so if you see minor discrepancies in your readings or re-reads know I am always editing later. Also I have a oneshot written about Kate's name that will be in "We've Both Been Here Before" that will be posted once this fic is complete. </p><p>6. POSY. That's all I will say about that :)</p><p>7. If you cannot tell, Kate and Anthony are very much in the lovey-dovey stage and are emotional and romantic right now...which will not last for long, lol. On another note, Anthony's love language (to give) is acts of service. He proved it with this chapter.</p><p>8. ANTHONY IS FINE. I CAN ASSURE YOU HE IS FINE. BUT THE CHARACTERS DONT KNOW THAT. If anyone dies in this series it will be a canonical death.</p><p>Let me know what you think! Love hearing your thoughts!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Unspoken Vows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heyyyyy.... another chapter for y'all! </p><p>BTW-I know am suuuper slow on catching up on comments, but please know I appreciate and adore EVERYTHING you all have to say. I love reading your thoughts, theories, and opinions an everything in regard to the fic and Bridgerton, please always share away! I am trying my best reply, but know if I don't get to you, I am rereading your comments and cherishing all you readers have to say!</p><p>WARNING: Mentions of infertility and implied emotionally abusive relationships </p><p>Anyways...typos will be fixed later! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>His hands were clammy.</p><p> </p><p>He knew his hands were clammy.</p><p> </p><p>His hands hadn’t been clammy over a girl since he was a teenager, going on tame and idle dates, hoping the girl at least liked him enough to see him again. Most didn’t at the age of fifteen.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony half expected Kate to make a smart comment out of the corner of her mouth about how clammy his hands were in hers, but she didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it was because her hands were just as clammy; always cold while his were always warm. Except now his hands weren’t. Because for some reason she agreed to marry him, and under the rather aggressive floodlights and the shadow of the gazebo, she was beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>The most beautiful woman—the most beautiful <em>bride</em> he could ever want.</p><p> </p><p>Her hair was down, her dark curls brushed out. Her long tulle and lace blush dress laid softly upon her, an ethereal gentleness encompassing Kate. Together they stood in a sea of fiery orange and red tulips, their favorite flower.</p><p> </p><p>He absorbed the moment, wanting to remember her like this.</p><p> </p><p>Faintly he was aware Benedict spoke, rambling on about love and connections and the abridged version of wedding vows fitting for a thrown together, illegitimate ceremony in the middle of the night.</p><p> </p><p>However all Anthony could see, hear, and feel was Kate. How her eyes crinkled when Benedict stumbled over his words or said something cringe-worthy. The small quirk of her lips any time her dark eyes came back to him. The shuddery inhale and exhaled she take every so often, the subtle rise of her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“…But anyone who has been around Anthony and Kate can see the inherent devotion they have for each other. Their connection is not one you come across all the time; it is special, and when you find something or someone special, it is best to hold on as quick as you can and never let go—which is what they are doing.” A few chuckles sounded from their families.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s hand tighten around Kate’s. He sent her a small smile.</p><p> </p><p>She gave one back.</p><p> </p><p>“…Anthony, do you take Katherine to be your wife to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”</p><p> </p><p>“I do.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve decided your family is fucking insane.”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca looked up from watching her brother and Kate dance badly together to find Michael dropping into the chair beside her. His camera hung around his neck, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’ve known that all my life,” Francesca waved off. “This was tame. You should have seen Daphne and Simon’s wedding.”</p><p> </p><p>Out on the grass Anthony kept on twirling Kate, her giggles erupting in gleeful bursts. Her brother was laughing, full cackling. Francesca had never seen him so free of inhibition. She’d never seen him embrace love with open arms, nor life with a boisterous attitude.</p><p> </p><p>A strange twist of her gut told her something was off.</p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t like Anthony, even she knew that, but no one stopped him or argued with his decision beyond the siblings’ interrogation. Once he was determined it was difficult to convince him otherwise.</p><p> </p><p>“They have only known each other for three weeks and decided to tie the knot,” Michael mused. “I don’t know if I am impressed or concerned.”</p><p> </p><p>“Be both.”</p><p> </p><p>Michael hummed in agreement. Reclining back in his chair, he sent her a small glance. “Has the prep for this spontaneous wedding in the last day been getting you thinking?”</p><p> </p><p>She turned up her nose, keeping her nonchalance. “I don’t know what you mean.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t play coy. That’s not you, Franny,” Michael warned. He nodded to the other side of the grass where John had been pulled into a dance circle with Oliver and Amanda, the two making him their friend without escape in sight. “He knows you’re avoiding him.”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca slumped against the patio table, resting her chin in her hand. “I know what he was planning.”</p><p> </p><p>Michael sighed. “He knows you know.”</p><p> </p><p>John tumbled to the ground, Amanda and Oliver tackling him in their delight. He pulled himself back up and gave the twins a good chase, childish yelps of excitement filling the lawn.</p><p> </p><p>“He’d be a great father,” Francesca declared. “I don’t know if I can give him that.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Michael’s hands slid across the space between them on the table. His fingers nudged hers, taunting yet hesitant. She accepted the gesture, tucking her hand under his own. He squeezed. “But he loves you. He does. He’s just trying to do the right thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“I want a family one day, but I want my career and success more,” she told him plainly. “I cannot stop and have children now. I’m not ready. Not in the slightest.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’d be happy to be a stay at home dad, if you did decide to have children young. In the next year or two,” Michael tried. “He’d be happy to adopt if it comes to that—”</p><p> </p><p>“Does <em>John</em> feel this way or is it <em>you</em>?” Francesca interjected, tired of this silent game they were all playing. Michael the mediator and best friend, John the Boyfriend, and Francesca the girl they both cared for.</p><p> </p><p>Michael still held her hand. “Franny—”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me,” she demanded.</p><p> </p><p>His grip tightened.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me,” she repeated, quieter. “<em>Tell me now</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think you should marry John,” he blurted out.</p><p> </p><p>She tugged her hand away. His touched burned.</p><p> </p><p>Francesca openly stared at him as though she’d been struck frozen.</p><p> </p><p>“You should marry John,” Michael said, sounding so far away. “He loves you. He will make you happy. He will put in the effort to make a marriage work. He’ll be everything you need; supportive, understanding, caring. He’s the man you should be with; he’s the most honest man I know.”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca felt like she was losing a battle she never knew she was fighting in the first place. “Michael—”</p><p> </p><p>“We kissed <em>once</em>,” he hissed. “It was wrong. It should have never happened,” he rushed out. Stumbling over his feet, he tried to stand up and leave.</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head, not understanding why this still bothered him. “That was before John and I even—”</p><p> </p><p>“He was already head-over-heels for you,” he said, distraught. “And I betrayed the trust he had in me. He should have been the one to walk you back to your flat that night. Not me. It’s him you need to be with, not me. You need to let this…this <em>possibility</em> go, Franny. It’s been almost two years.”</p><p> </p><p>Biting her lips together, Francesca pushed down the sting of tears and stood up. “Then go home. After tonight, go home. Don’t talk to me after this. I’m not your friend anymore,” she spat. For once she was relieved her family had been kind enough to leave her alone. They had Anthony and Kate to fuss over, her brother miraculously saving her from the attention she loathe so much. “From now on you are simply John’s cousin and I am his <em>fiancée</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>She left him at the table, making her way down to John and the children.</p><p> </p><p>He grinned up at her, once again at the bottom of a tackle pile. “Hey Franny—"</p><p> </p><p>“I want to get married,” she told him, point blank. “To you.”</p><p> </p><p>Shock consumed him. “Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she nodded, sure of herself. She loved John. She did. He’d make her happy, he’d follow her wishes. “I want to marry you, John.”</p><p> </p><p>When he climbed back up to his feet and pulled her into a sweet, gentle kiss, Francesca knew she made the right decision.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to dip you.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Don’t you dare</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I dare Mrs. Bridgerton!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate yelped as Anthony swung her down into a low dip, her hands scrambling to grip his arms. “You’re going to drop me,” she cried out.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d never drop you,” he insisted, his hold on her firm and sturdy. “I’d let myself fall before I’d ever let you.”</p><p> </p><p>“At this angle, it would be physically impossible for you to fall before me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d find a way to break your fall.”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t last night,” she informed him. Anthony pulled her back from the dip, bringing her to an off-beat sway. “I landed on my back. You landed on me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was not anticipating a fall.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you will only catch me if you <em>anticipate</em> a fall?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Most falls are not anticipated, Anthony,” Kate reminded him stoutly, a teasing grin forming, “they come unexpectedly. Hence the gut dropping effect.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I will catch you in both anticipated <em>and</em> unanticipated falls. How about we amend the vows to include that bit, hm?</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled into his chest. “I think it’s a little too late to make the change.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn,” he muttered dramatically. Pressing his forehead against hers, he stared deep into her eyes, Kate’s insides fluttering alight. “I never want tonight to end,” he confessed. “I want <em>you</em>,” he murmured against her temple.</p><p> </p><p>She pulled away from him, dark eyes shining with longing. “Patience—” A feather light kiss touched his lips. “—is a virtue.”</p><p> </p><p>“I never said I was virtuous.”</p><p> </p><p>A slender finger twirled the hair at the base of his neck, tugging and teasing in languid circles. Her lips once again found his, not as chaste as before. A desperateness buzzed between them, Anthony holding her closer.</p><p> </p><p>“Just wait,” she soothed. Her chuckles were poorly concealed, Kate naturally laughing at his expense. “At least until we aren’t around your family—”</p><p> </p><p>“Our family,” he corrected, nose bumping into hers. Cool to the touch. “Everyone here is <em>our</em> family.”</p><p> </p><p>“Our family,” she amended, her smile positively radiant.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“They are disgustingly cute.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like seeing him like this.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise raised an eyebrow at her sister. “Daphne, just because you are disgustingly in love doesn’t mean the rest of the world needs to follow suit.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne rolled her eyes as she reached behind her for two plates of cake. A simple almond cake she had the family’s personal chef make for the occasion, nothing too showy or over the top. White with tiny rosettes, a round large enough for all of them to snag a piece.</p><p> </p><p>She passed a plate to Eloise. “Aren’t you in love too?” she teased, handing over a fork.</p><p> </p><p>Both turned to where Phillip sat with Penelope and Colin, Pen engaging him in a bright and bubbly chat while Colin watched on with vague disinterest but tried his best to listen.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” she drawled out. “But not like you and Simon or,” she nodded to Anthony and Kate, who were still dancing on the grass like they were the only two people in the world, “the lovebirds of the hour over there. Or even Ethan and Benedict.”</p><p> </p><p>The last two already snuck away for the night, back to Benedict’s studio.</p><p> </p><p>“I think you are, you just have a different way of showing it, and there’s nothing wrong with that,” Daphne countered, popping a piece of cake into her mouth. “Need I remind you of the rather aggressive love declaration in the foyer a couple of weeks ago?”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise scoffed, aggravated embarrassment shrouding her. “That never happened and I will continue to deny the existence of such an instance, thank you very much.” She gave a vicious stab at her cake. “I love him. He loves me too.” She shrugged, as if it weren’t a big deal. “And we want to be together but we aren’t going to do the marriage thing for a <em>long</em> time.” Her nose scrunched. “If ever.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does <em>he</em> know that?” Daphne asked, concerned brows furrowing together. She glanced back to Phillip. Colin had finally been roped into the conversation, he trying his very best to be upbeat with Phillip. He wasn’t succeeding.</p><p> </p><p>She shrugged a shoulder. “Eh.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Eloise</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Does it <em>really</em> matter?” Eloise shoved a forkful of frosting into her mouth. “I feel like you are only bringing this up because you want to plan more weddings and I am the closest person you can sink your claws into.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne near shrieked in indignation. “Excuse me? It was very stressful putting this together—”</p><p> </p><p>“But you liked it,” Eloise taunted back, booping Daphne’s nose with the end of her fork.</p><p> </p><p>Frosting sat on the tip of Daphne’s nose, but she did not notice, huffing and puffing. “This isn’t even how I wanted to do the wedding,” she bemoaned into her cake. “I had all these plans—”</p><p> </p><p>“They were literally engaged for <em>a day</em>. How did you already have plans?”</p><p> </p><p>“I work fast.”</p><p> </p><p>Face deadpanned, Eloise shook her head. “Yeah. Because of you I reaffirm my statement of not getting married or at the very least not having a wedding.”</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise—”</p><p> </p><p>“Daphne, I must say you did a fantastic job putting this together.”</p><p> </p><p>Both young women snapped their mouths shut at Mother’s appearance. Daphne spun around, all smiles at Mother. “Thank you. I know it is nowhere up to par to your work, Mama, but I tried my best working with the most difficult people in the world.”</p><p> </p><p>Mother chuckled, picking up her own piece of cake. “It’s funny how sometimes it is the couple who has the least amount of opinions becomes the most difficult.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you have no idea what they want!”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly.” Mother dug into her cake, a small smile playing on her lips. She hadn’t been smiling much these days, due to the anniversary and the tiff between her and Anthony. However now she seemed lighter, happier. “The party, seeing you put together this rushed wedding, it makes me miss event planning.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise and Daphne shared a baffled frown. They knew their mother worked and had a career in event planning earlier in her life, prior to becoming a full time stay-at-home parent, their older brothers mentioning it once or twice. But Violet rarely brought up her past life.</p><p> </p><p>“If you miss it, why don’t you just do it again?”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise’s blunt suggestion stilled her mother mid-chew. She fell into deep thought, chewing faster. She swallowed. “I—uh—I never thought about that, to be perfectly honest.”</p><p> </p><p>“All of us can wipe our own asses.” Daphne smacked Eloise’s arm for the crass remark, yet the girl continued. “We’re all adults or almost adults. The only two who live with you are Gregory and Hyacinth and lord knows they’ve been able to take care of themselves since they could talk and walk.” She stuffed another bite of cake into her mouth. “Mother, it you want to be a boss bitch again, no one is going to stop you. In fact, we’ll cheer you on.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet coughed, patting her chest. “I…” She swallowed air, catching her breath. “I never wanted to stop being uh—a <em>boss bitch</em> as you say, but I did because I had children to care for—”</p><p> </p><p>“And you did your caring, now go live life again,” Eloise told her. “You deserve it.”</p><p> </p><p>Mother blinked rapidly, reaching for a napkin from the table behind them. “Eloise, that might have been the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise’s focus fell to her empty plate. “I can be nice sometimes,” she mumbled. “Not all the time, but <em>sometimes</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m too old to get back out there in the business.” Violet began making excuses. “Things have changed so much since I was in the industry—”</p><p> </p><p>Unceremoniously Eloise dropped her plate on the table. She dug into her dress pocket, pulling out her phone and tapped away.</p><p> </p><p>She thrusted the screen into Mother and Daphne’s faces.</p><p> </p><p>Photos. From the party. On Twitter of all things.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise swiped, switching apps, showing Instagram. More photos from the party from the accounts of several guests in attendance.</p><p> </p><p>“These aren’t even the professional photographs Michael took—these are from the people who were here last night. People like your work and enjoyed the party. They are getting thousands upon thousands of likes. Not to mention you had it here at Aubrey Hall. You do know people have entire Pinterest accounts dedicated to the garden, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Violet took Eloise’s phone, getting a better look at the photos posted.</p><p> </p><p>“For someone who claims they might be too old and out of touch with the industry, you sure are causing a small buzz,” Eloise said, smug.</p><p> </p><p>“But I can never do this on my own. Not again.” Violet handed back the phone to Eloise. “I had so much help yesterday. I’d need an assistant, someone who’d understand my thought process—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be your assistant.” Daphne chimed in. Both her mother and sister stood astounded, gapping at her.</p><p> </p><p>Violet dispelled the notion. “No, no, no. You have your career to think about, designing wedding gowns and you cannot work at the design house—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to leave the company,” Daphne squeaked out, terrified at admitting her decision aloud.</p><p> </p><p>“You are?” Eloise asked. “But it was your dream apprenticeship!”</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes dream apprenticeships aren’t what we imagine them to be,” Daphne said, somber. Her hand clasped together over her slim belly. Just so, there was a small, barely there curve of a bump. “I am miserable there. Same position for two years and I’m at a standstill and have more than paid my dues! I <em>want</em> to design, but my boss never gives me an opportunity. Simon and I have been talking about it all month, what will be my next move once I leave...” She took a deep breath, thrilled yet anxious trill in the back of her throat as she spoke of her future. Of the unknown. Daphne had never been one <em>to not</em> have a plan—and leaving her dream apprenticeship, having a baby early in marriage…none of this was part of the initial grand scheme of her life. Howbeit, she may like the new direction more. “I want to start my own business. Design my own wedding gowns. Have a boutique! Help brides find their perfect dress for happily ever after! But that will take time, especially with the baby on the way and…and maybe for the time being I help you. Make connections with other people in the wedding industry.” She shrugged a little, dazed as she daydreamed about a new future. “I don’t mind a little detour, especially if it means I get to make special events and memories with you, Mama.”</p><p> </p><p>Sniffles came from mother and daughter, both misty eyed.</p><p> </p><p>Violet reached across Eloise to Daphne, grasping her hand. “I’d love to do this with you, Daphne. I cannot imagine a better or more perfect way to step back into my career. I want you by my side.”</p><p> </p><p>A small gasp of emotion overcame Daphne. She charged into her mother for a hug, Violet’s arms already open.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, Eloise got caught in the middle, squashed between her mother and sister. Daphne’s bun dug into her chin, Eloise scowling.</p><p> </p><p>“As much as I support you two and love this lovefest, I’d appreciate it if I can—”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope,” Daphne beamed, wrapping Eloise firmly in the three-way hug. “It was your idea and you have just as much hand in this!”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to join this new endeavor too, Eloise?” Violet asked absolutely giddy as her mind ran through the possibilities going forward. “I’m sure we can use a social media liaison and third voice—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not into weddings.” Eloise wiggled left then right, freeing one arm. “Nor jumping at the opportunity of working with the two of you, no offense.” Realizing she was still caught in their hug, Eloise slumped. It was impossible to get out of Daphne and Mother’s clutches when they were together. “But I’ll help whenever it sees fit or you need an extra hand—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yay!” Daphne cheered right into her ear. “This is going to be so exciting!”</p><p> </p><p>“It is! It really is!” Mother exclaimed with the same jubilance as her daughter.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yay</em>,” Eloise muttered, slowly conforming into the hug.</p><p> </p><p>Bridgerton women were difficult to evade, Eloise no exception to her mother’s and sister’s determination. She could only hope the road of their venture remained smooth, for the entire family’s sake.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You should move in with me.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict breathed out the words along Ethan’s neck, mid-kiss, not thinking twice about the idea.</p><p> </p><p>He wanted Ethan around all the time. Wanted to wake up next to him, watch as the sun trickled in through the window and dance across his love’s hair. He wanted to do all the mundane with him. He wanted Ethan to yell at him about his paints and projects being littered everywhere and be bothered about cleaning up his messes in person rather than a text reminder, or well known sigh over the phone. Most of all, he wanted someone to come home to. Being away at Aubrey Hall, even for a short time without Ethan, told him life was a little lackluster without his love.</p><p> </p><p>Ethan pulled away from him, collar a mess and hair mused. “You want me to move in—with you?” His green eyes scanned Benedict’s face, nonplus. “I…I don’t know—why now?”</p><p> </p><p>Resting an arm on the back of the sofa, Benedict leaned away, considering the question.</p><p> </p><p><em>Why now</em>?</p><p> </p><p>He and Ethan had been together for some time, over a year. Sadly, Benedict did not have their anniversary memorized because once Ethan swept into his life, he did not care to account for time spent; he cared for what time he’d spend, and spend again and again with Ethan. He always looked towards the future with him, not once lingering on the past.</p><p> </p><p>“Because I love you,” Benedict said, simple as that. “I love you. My family loves you. I feel like we’ve been heading this way for a long time…and—and it was always me holding back. I don’t want to hold back anymore.” A giddy smile consumed Benedict, he leaning in close to Ethan, ready to steal another kiss. “I want to spend all my time with you, be in your space and you in mine. Is that so wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>Ethan turned away, Benedict’s mouth connecting to his jaw.</p><p> </p><p>He paused. A huff escaped him.</p><p> </p><p>“What if I don’t <em>want</em> to move in with you?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict pulled back, stung. “Ethan—”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you, I do,” the words tumbled out in a frantic mess. “But I don’t want to live with you. I don’t want to live with anyone.” Ethan shifted away, tugging at his collar. His tie hung loose around his neck, the knot falling apart. “I’ve always lived with someone I was indebted to, told I owed my life to. My step-mother, my step-sisters,” he said, voice thick. “And while living with Posy was different; she my sister, my best friend, I still felt like I owed her everything even when I didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know—”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t.” Ethan sat further away, a sad turn in his mouth. “You don’t know because you have a family who loves you dearly. One who threw together a wedding for your brother in less than a day because—because you all adore each other. I love that. I do. They’d never make you feel like you owe them anything—”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict sat forward, forcing Ethan to look at him. He needed to understand he’d always be loved and cared for, Benedict willing to tell him with his every breath. “I’d never make you feel that way. Never.”</p><p> </p><p>Ethan wiped at his face, frustrated red heat tinging his cheeks. “I know you would not, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.” Licking his lips, he scoffed at himself. “I know me Benedict. I know if we move in together, I’ll self-sabotage—I’ll sabotage us. You are the last thing I’d ever want to ruin.”</p><p> </p><p>At a loss, Ethan’s mind already made, Benedict pushed himself off the sofa. He ambled into the kitchenette. On autopilot he poured himself a drink. “Okay,” he muttered. “Okay. I’m okay with that.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t sound like it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, shit I’m not okay with it, but I am not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, damn it!”</p><p> </p><p>Ethan flinched. Hard.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict wanted to smack himself upside the head. Goddamn it, the last thing he wanted to do was frighten Ethan.</p><p> </p><p>He cleared his throat, pushing aside the glass of brandy until it clattered into the empty sink. “I—I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I’m sorry. I know—uh—that wasn’t okay. <em>I’m sorry</em>.” He sniffed, bracing his hands on the counter.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to bed,” Ethan announced. He stood from the sofa and grabbed his suit jacket off the back. Turning to Benedict, he kept his face open and honest despite his inherent need to hide from the world. “I do love you, Ben. I do. I love you so much, I don’t want my own fucked issues to ruin what we have. Please understand. That’s all I ask.”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict did not let himself crumple until he heard the click of the bedroom door.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“The rest of the house and I will be gone tomorrow,” his mother told him the brief moment he stepped away from Kate in favor of finding a beverage for both of them. His <em>wife’s</em> full, warm laugh echoed from across the patio. She was with her mother and sister, saying her goodnights and goodbyes, as both women had to leave early in the morning for their respective work. “You and Kate will have the house to yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>Conspicuously, Anthony raised his eyebrows at his mother, finding the gesture oddly nice.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll be at Crake House visiting. I called your aunt earlier today. She’s excited to see your siblings and meet their guests.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, thank you,” he intoned, polite. “For doing that.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet hummed. “I was once married and young,” she said. “I know what it is like. All I ask is tonight you keep your activities to your room.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony choked on his water. “<em>Mother</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s getting late,” his mother began clearing off the table beside them, “I think I shall clean up here and head to bed.”</p><p> </p><p>Sensing her cue to pack up, Daphne and Simon came to her aid. Most of his siblings had gone off to bed or were lounging about around the patio chatting, only few remnants of the small ceremony and reception left behind. Eloise and Penelope had seemed to take it upon themselves to make Colin and Phillip friends, forcing them into conversation together. The twins had already been put to bed by the aid of John and Francesca, the two retiring for the night after. Benedict and Ethan left hours ago to the studio, excuses of exhaustion from the day, but everyone knew better. As for Anthony’s youngest siblings, Gregory and Hyacinth had volunteered to take care of Newton for the night; for the last half hour the two squabbled over who’d cuddle with the demon-dog that night.</p><p> </p><p>“He was my friend first—”</p><p> </p><p>“Newt and I have a very special bond and I like to believe Kate trusts me more,” Gregory shot back, holding the leash out of her reach.</p><p> </p><p>“Newton likes me more!” Hyacinth’s jumps did little to help, Gregory almost a good foot taller than her.</p><p> </p><p>“Did he tell you that?” When Hyacinth said nothing in response, Gregory gave a ‘ha!’ in her face. “Of course he didn’t! He’s a dog, he can’t talk!”</p><p> </p><p>She stomped her foot. “You’re an idiot!” She kicked him in the shin, snatched the leash, and dashed into the house.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Hyacinth!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Gregory hobbled after her, doors slamming and feet scuffling along the way.</p><p> </p><p>Mother sighed. “One day you will have children who drive you just as mad and slam all the doors to this ancient house just like all the other Bridgertons before.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s face clouded.</p><p> </p><p>He got a nudge on the arm. His Mother met his eyes, firm. “You <em>will</em>. I have faith you will. No moping.”</p><p> </p><p>With that she patted his arm and resumed her clean up.</p><p> </p><p>Just as Anthony made his way back to Kate’s side, Michael came up to them, camera packed away in its case. “I’ll send you two the finished photos later in the week,” he said business-like, starling Anthony. He never considered the young photographer to be so serious, Michael often laughing and teasing in the short time he knew him. “Congrats and I guess I’ll see you two when I see you—”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not staying for the rest of holiday?” Anthony asked. There was a little over a week and a half left. “Franny made it sound like you and John were.”</p><p> </p><p>“John is, I’m not.” Michael did not seem keen to elaborate.</p><p> </p><p>Kate frowned, not entirely happy by this news. “You have our phone numbers right?” she asked. “So we can plan to get together some time later when we are all back in town.” When Michael opened his mouth for another empty excuse, Kate waved him off. “No excuses. We will meet up. You are not going to wiggle out of this friendship.”</p><p> </p><p>For a flash of a second, Michael’s eyes darted to Anthony for help, then realized he’d be a lost cause. “Alright Kate,” he relented. “I look forward to a future get together.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” she smiled, grateful, “and thank you again.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony watched as Kate easily reeled Michael back into good spirits and send him off with goodbyes, quietly amazed by her. She had a phenomenal way of making anyone feel better, even if she did not know the cause of distress or sadness. Encouraging, kind, and attentive in all her interactions—Anthony concluded he did not deserve her. Yet she peered up at him with those impossibly large, dark eyes, sights set only on him.</p><p> </p><p>His heart pounded in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Would her simple, adoring gaze always set his heart beating frantic? Frantic like he only wanted and needed her, in anyway she’d have him. Simple touches and glances to send him wild, and kisses to render him speechless. Would this be his life—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Of course this would be his life.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He felt it in the way she threaded and intertwined their fingers together. Her left in his right. The coolness of her hands, the edges of her rings, the gentle stroke of her thumb and index finger into the back of his hand.</p><p> </p><p>For once he was getting what he wanted from life, and for one fleeting night he would not allow himself to feel guilty.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>His hands rested on her thighs, never ceasing warmth radiating from his palms. Caressing, holding her in place as she reached high, after high, he not resting until he kissed every inch of her, bringing her to the edge by the touch and press of his lips to her heat. Kate reached for Anthony, pulling him to meet her lips.</p><p> </p><p>Eagerly he met her, hands threading through her hair and body pressed against hers, feeling perfect. She never knew anyone or anything could feel as perfect as being with him. Was this what she was missing out on all this time? The presence and purpose of touch, of b</p><p> </p><p>As she laid catching her breath she recalled how his hands had been clammy all evening, Anthony subtly wiping his hands when he thought she wasn’t looking. This overly confident man above her with fingers intertwined in her hair, a leader and commander in his own right in both his family and career, was <em>nervous</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony Bridgerton was nervous and he was trying to not show it. Nervous over her of all people.</p><p> </p><p>When she confessed her knowledge of his clammy hands in the confines of his room, he scowled into the kiss while Kate laughed against his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony leaned away, fierce. “Stop laughing of me!” He hissed darkly, only to tickle her fiendishly at her ribs, where the upper half of her blush gown sat rumpled and bunched. She wiggled and twisted in his hold, pulling him closer until he had no choice but to cradle his hips against hers, a delightful moan coming from him.</p><p> </p><p>“God, Kate…” he muttered against her collarbone. Kisses pepper down until he rested in the hallow between her breasts, feeling the thrum of her life beat solidly against his lips, then his forehead.</p><p> </p><p>A shuddery exhale wracked through her.</p><p> </p><p>He lifted his head, dark eyes luring her in deeper to his desire. “I’m not nervous.”</p><p> </p><p>She rolled her eyes; Anthony was choosing now to be insufferably overdramatic and defensive. He had an entire evening to be so, but it was once they were tangled with each other did he decide to be this way. “I never said you were.”</p><p> </p><p>“You implied it.” He rested his arm beside her head, propping himself up. “I have been with plenty—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know your history,” she interjected, not needing him to boast about his previous conquests. Kate was well aware; while she had initially been apprehensive due to her own inexperience, insecurities faded within days, Anthony more than willing to help her play catch-up. “No need to bring it up <em>now</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m trying to say I’ve never had anyone here,” he grumbled out. “Never wanted to. I never…I never thought I would.” His mouth found hers again, meeting her in an languid, airy kiss once, twice, then three times. “Until you.”</p><p> </p><p>With a tenderness to nearly bring her to tears, he brought her left hand to his lips. A brush at the back of her hand, another to her knuckles. He led her hand in a gentle draw and drag of her fingers across his mouth to his chin until he rest her palm against his cheek. Lips pressed to her wrist, firm against her pulse point. Teeth grazed her skin, oh so gently.</p><p> </p><p>Warm desire pooled deep within her, alighting under her skin and spreading across every inch of her body. She wanted him and he wanted her, the thrill of his touch causing her to bring him closer, to feel his pulsing need for her against her own.</p><p> </p><p>“I never…” His breath tickled across her cheek. His hands still held hers, carefully intertwining their fingers. “I never thought I’d be this happy. With anyone.” Anthony chestnut locks fell over his forehead, his wavy-curl locks thick and full. “You make me happy.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s all I want,” she confessed, bumping her nose to his playfully. “For you to be happy.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I the same for you,” he smirked, a devilish mischief in his eyes. “I think I can count how many times I’ve made you deliriously happy in the last half hour…”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s scoff turned into a chest heaving cackle. Her head fell back, Anthony surging forward to reclaim her neck as his own, nipping lips trailing in a sinfully frenzied pace.</p><p> </p><p>“I love your neck, I love your curls, I love your skin…” He murmured until his mouth found hers again. “I love yo—" She chased a kiss after a half breath, silencing him.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop telling me and show me.”</p><p> </p><p>Dark need reflected back at her, utterly moved and enticed by her demand. Not needing to be told twice, gentle ministrations turned into fraught pawing, a mad chase to discard of remaining clothes. Once skin to skin, heavy breaths consumed both as the heat of longing reached a fever pitch, hands gripping for purchase. Kisses danced between tender and eager, neither able to make up their mind as they rolled with each other on the sheets. Anthony became absolutely possessive and powerful in their embrace, barely able to restrain himself as he paused above her, resting against her just so before he moved any further.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate, I need to—” He inhaled deeply, warm brown eyes frantically scanning her face, struggling to maintain his composure. “I need to tell you. I need tell you I lov—”</p><p> </p><p>Grabbing the back of his neck, she brought in for a bold, unabashed kiss.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t want to hear it now. Not in throes of passion. Not when she’d question the meaning. She’d never want herself to question the sincerity of this moment where she gave herself fully to him in a way she’d never with anyone else.</p><p> </p><p>“Kiss me and don’t stop,” she breathed to him.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony could only help but fall to her mercy.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Is it always like that?” Kate asked him later in the night. She rested her chin on his chest, a bewitching smirk on her lips. Her hair was a mess, dark curls tumbling into her face, she flushed and thoroughly ravished. “Because if it’s always like that then <em>clearly</em> I was missing out on something,” she teased, inching forward to plant a peck on his chin, then his jaw, smiling against him.</p><p> </p><p>God, he loved <em>feeling</em> her smiles. An entirely intimate way to experience her radiance. One only he knew and relished at the fact no others would.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not,” Anthony exhaled, still catching his after their third time, “trust me. It’s not.” He tilted his head down to her, an airy laugh escaping him at her embolden dark eyes. “It’s never felt like that for me, ever.” He ran a hand through her hair, twirling a finger through his favorite set of curls. She swatted at his hand playfully, like a sinister kitten. Deftly he caught her hand, cradling hers against his heart. “It felt like that because it was you and me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm,” she hummed. “Then I’m glad it was you and me,” she told him, curling into his side. He followed her, turning to his side, scooting until they were nose to nose. Her face scrunched at the closeness, she sticking her tongue at him. In retaliation, he flicked the end of her nose. “How dare you,” she giggled sleepily, burrowing against his arm she decided to use as a pillow. Her eyelids drooped before blinking alive a half second later.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re falling asleep,” he whispered to her, nudging his forehead closer to hers, “and here I thought I would do as you say and show you all the ways I…”</p><p> </p><p>A slender finger pressed lazily to his lips. “Stop talking. Or I’m going to push you off this bed.” Her eyes fluttered closed, making show she was indeed going to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>His grin stretched wide at the threat, stunned yet completely unsurprised. He snuggled closer to her. “You wouldn’t dare.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate screwed her eyes tighter. “I would.”</p><p> </p><p>“You wouldn’t dare push your husband—”</p><p> </p><p>Two hands braced on his chest and <em>shoved</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Hard.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Kate</em>!” He yelped not falling over, but losing his balance for a fleeting second. Anthony caught himself on edge of the bed.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes blew wide, her cackle filling the room at his scramble.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stared down at her bewildered, but exceedingly enthralled with her.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t actually think you’d tip over!” she cried out, wheezing. She struggled to muffled her laughter behind her hands. When none of this helped, she resorted to plopping her face into a pillow, giggles dull however still enchanting as ever.</p><p> </p><p>Watching her, Anthony soon found his own chuckles joining hers. He laid back beside her, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her head of curls. “You can push me out of the bed whenever you want,” he muttered in her ear, “just be prepared. I might push you back one day.”</p><p> </p><p>Her face peaked up from pillow. “When? <em>Now</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head, falling back against the bed and tucking an arm behind his head. “Oh no, not now. Not tomorrow. Or even the next day.” Her eyes narrowed, shrouded in burning annoyance. “But one day, when you least expect it, it will come and it will be <em>glorious</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>A pillow whacked at his face and Anthony didn’t regret his threat a bit. It gave him something to look forward to, not to mention a reason to forever tease Kate.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>An insistent buzz of his mobile phone roused Anthony from his haze of half-awake and half-asleep.</p><p> </p><p>The damn thing was buzzing what felt like the umpteenth time that morning. He ignored the first three earlier in the morning, keeping his eyes firmly shut. Rarely did he sleep in, even on holiday, but sleeping in the day after declaring his intention to spend the rest of his days with the woman he loved felt like a good reason than any to do so.</p><p> </p><p>He had every intention to lay in bed until Kate woke, then keep her there for as long as possible and make her breathless.</p><p> </p><p>However when his phone buzzed twice in succession at little after ten, he knew he was better off picking up the call then letting his voicemail box pile up.</p><p> </p><p>Careful to not wake Kate, he pushed himself up and snatched up his phone. He did not bother to check the caller-ID, swiping the green button across the screen and pressing the phone to his ear in one motion.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, what do you need?” he mumbled, rubbing away at the sleep in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony Bridgerton? Uh—this is Dr. Quinn, the neurologist.”</p><p> </p><p>His chest fell out, reality crippling him in an shuddering instant.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony? Are you still there?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Anthony felt like a goddamn idiot. His free hand frantically scrubbed at his face, forcing himself to be alert and present and attentive. “Ah—yes. It’s me, Anthony. Right. Sorry. I was asleep—”</p><p> </p><p>“At ten-thirty in the day?” she asked, a joking tinge to her tone. “To each their own, I suppose,” she tittered. “Anyways, I am calling because I have your results. Would you like the good news or bad news first?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just any news would be good, really,” he said, climbing out of bed. He made sure to tuck the duvet up to Kate’s chin before stepping away to his bathroom. Quietly he shut the door behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll just start with the bad news—you do indeed have chronic migraines and we’ll need to set a follow-up appointment to address those and find the best methods to treat you. Right now I suggest basic pain-reliever medication as you have been doing when you sense one coming on. So we’ll be seeing more of each other, Mr. Bridgerton.”</p><p> </p><p>Leaning against the sink, Anthony blinked owlishly at the light blue tile on the walls. That was the <em>bad news</em>? “Oh, then—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then the good news is no tumor! And no cancer,” she added. “You are actually in great health, better than most men your age besides the migraines, so take great pride in that, Anthony. Healthwise you probably have another fifty, sixty years ahead of you.”</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t too sure if he could breathe, air knocked out his lungs at the revelation. Someone, a medical professional, was telling him he had time. A lot of time. More than he could fathom. “So…” Anthony struggled to find the words, the phrase ‘<em>fifty, sixty years ahead of you</em>’ thundering in his mind. “…I’m not dying?”</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled, bemused. “You are not dying. I know that might have been a scare, but we like to at least make sure our patients are informed of the realities, especially since decisions would have needed to be made immediately.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. That’s…that’s good, I guess that I am…not…dying.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, it’s a good thing!” she cheered. “Alright then, you have a good rest of your day and I’ll see you for your next appointment.”</p><p> </p><p>She hung up before Anthony could say another word.</p><p> </p><p>He stared dumbly at the phone in his hand, perplexed and in no way relieved.</p><p> </p><p>In fact, the floodgates of dread opened, drowning him within seconds.</p><p> </p><p>He thought…he thought he was dying. Everything his damn life pointed towards death, and while he feared dying, Anthony liked to believe he accepted the reality of his demise well. All elder Bridgerton men died relatively young; his father before forty, his grandfather before fifty, then there was his sickly Uncle Hugo…</p><p> </p><p>Anthony accepted death, the pain of leaving those he cared for behind the <em>real</em> unbearable thought.</p><p> </p><p>But…But the thought of living? Being told he could, perhaps would have a <em>long</em> life?</p><p> </p><p>That was bone-chilling, pulse-rising, gut-dropping horror.</p><p> </p><p>He spent his entire life thus far taking care of everyone. His mother. His brothers. His sisters. Bridgerton Media Publications. Their futures. He spent all his time, what little he believed had on this earth, on everyone else. Because it was the right thing to do; he wouldn’t be like his father and let it all fall to pieces at his death. He had a will and had his trusts in order by the time he was twenty and revised both each year. He planned to get married now because he knew he needed an heir and his family was traditional in some senses so he went about starting a family by finding a wife first. And if he couldn’t find someone then he’d just appoint a sibling an heir.</p><p> </p><p>He knew how to plan for a future without <em>himself</em> in it.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony expected his death to come soon. That’s why he thought he could be selfish for once in his goddamn life and be with a woman who drove him mad in all the best and worst ways.</p><p> </p><p>He thought he could be reckless! Falling in love and…</p><p> </p><p>And now…and <em>now</em>…</p><p> </p><p>Hands shaking, he cracked open his bathroom door.</p><p> </p><p>Kate remained sound asleep.</p><p> </p><p>She laid unaware. Chest rising and falling steadily.</p><p> </p><p><em>Oh god, what had he done</em>?</p><p> </p><p>Kate deserved far better than him. So much better.</p><p> </p><p>She deserved someone who could at least say he loved her.</p><p> </p><p>His hands were clammy.</p><p> </p><p>He knew his hands were clammy.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony had to get the hell out of there.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, I am evil. We have established this. I will now go sit in the corner.</p><p>Some Notes~~</p><p>1. I told some readers this in comments and in my A/N in 'Leave a Voicemail' but I don't like writing weddings 😂 like, at all. Ironic, I know.</p><p>2.  IF ANYONE SENSED SOMETHING HAD HAPPENED TO FRANNY AND MICHAEL IN THE PAST KUDOS TO YOU! To clarify, Franny NEVER cheated on John. The kiss was before she and John started officially dating. And is Franny related to one panic-reckless Anthony Bridgerton? YES. Told you guys they were alike in alot of ways!</p><p>3. Daphne and Violet are starting a business together. CRAZY RIGHT? But perfect!</p><p>4. Sorry to my Ethan and Benedict lovers! THEY ARE STILL TOGETHER AND LOVE EACH OTHER, but I do side with Ethan here so yeah.</p><p>5. So.....................I don't write smut. I have never written true smut. I can write love scenes, but nothing saucier beyond that. If you follow me on tumblr (which shameless plug, you can follow me on tumblr at intp-slytherin97 and on twitter @intpslytherin97) you saw me lament a bit about that, lol. So I tried my best fam, I tried my best.</p><p>6. YES YOU CAN SCREAM AT ME ABOUT KATE SHUTTING UP ANTHONY EVERY SINGLE TIME HE TRIED TO SAY 'I LOVE YOU'</p><p>7. ANTHONY IS NOT DYING. You got your official confirmation! YAY!</p><p>8. Anthony is also a dumby. Yes, go forth and yell at me in the comments!</p><p>Anyways...I have learned my lesson and I will stick to official-unofficial update schedule of one on the weekend and one in the middle of the week because I think I threw us all off trying to add more! So next update on Wednesday! (EDIT: OR SOONER BECAUSE YEAH I WAS MEAN WITH THAT CLIFFHANGER.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. A Little Fall of Rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me: No update until Wednesday.</p><p>Also Me: STOP TORTURING THEM AND JUST POST THAT FATEFUL CHAPTER.</p><p>So....here ya go.</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kate knew Anthony was avoiding her.</p><p> </p><p>Once he left the bed mid-day on Monday, he never returned, cooping himself up in his study. She tried not to be too offended; after all, Anthony had his work, it was a weekday, and despite being on holiday he had his responsibilities.</p><p> </p><p>Yet as the hours ticked by, a pit of dread gnawed to life in her gut.</p><p> </p><p>She ignored the insistent twist and drop telling her to march right into his study and demand what was wrong. Because clearly something was wrong—never in all the times they’d shared bed, innocently enough, had he up and left her without saying anything.</p><p> </p><p>There was always a nudge, a kiss to her forehead, a snuggle into her neck; even once a hard shake telling her he needed to get up because of Newton scratching on the door, needing to go out.</p><p> </p><p>He never slipped out without her notice.</p><p> </p><p>Until now that is.</p><p> </p><p>To kill intrusive thoughts, Kate forced herself to get out of bed and go about her day. She took a shower, dressed, and made herself a late lunch. No one else was in the house, Aubrey Hall eerily quiet. For once she felt the house’s ancientness in the hallowed hallos; the aged yet maintained wallpaper, the tall ceilings, the grand turn of the staircase.</p><p> </p><p>Never had she felt so small in the country home.</p><p> </p><p>Kate found herself lingering in the back corridor where family pictures lined the walls. Young mischievous faces of Benedict and Colin arms thrown around each other’s necks during a Christmas a good two decades prior. The sweet demure of Daphne and her little fringe, smiling brightly into the camera. Toddler Eloise and Francesca muddy, playing in the rain puddles. A chubby baby Gregory in an exhausted yet radiant Violet’s arms.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes trailed over each photo, the Bridgertons antics always present and vivid, leaping out of the picture frame.</p><p> </p><p>It did not escape her notice all of Anthony’s were with his father.</p><p> </p><p>A football game, Edmund’s arms wrapped around a boyish Anthony, both beaming. A hike, an early teenage Anthony disgruntled yet Edmund with his same jubilant smile. A Christmas photo, Anthony older—perhaps the last Christmas before Edmund’s passing—rolling his eyes as his father laid more thrashed bows and ribbons on his head.</p><p> </p><p>Her heart clenched.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund was not only Anthony’s father and mentor, but he was his best friend.</p><p> </p><p>More than ever before she wanted to wrap Anthony in a hug and hold him. Hold him and promise him she’d be there. Tell him she understood the lingering pain, how he did not have to be alone; she’d been the same with her own father.</p><p> </p><p>Miles Sharma, besides sweet Edwina, was the person who understood Kate best. He knew the right words to lift her spirits and push her to be better. They’d paint on weekends, side by side, her love for art sprouting from his nurturing. He’d take her to museums, tell her about each and ever artist, more in depth than any history book; those were the pluses she supposed of having an art history professor as a father.</p><p> </p><p>He taught her to treasure little moments and their family. To care and fight for them with honesty, even if it hurt to speak the truth. He was her favorite person in the world.</p><p> </p><p>Despite the briefness of how Anthony spoke of Edmund and the smiles in the photos, Kate knew her husband felt the same for his father as she did hers.</p><p> </p><p>Determined, she left corridor for the kitchen and made tea for the both of them. Once the water was boiled and the tea steeped and made to both their liking, Kate went to his study, mugs in hand.</p><p> </p><p>Cracking open the door she found him with his ear pressed to his phone, looking beyond bored but actively listening to whoever was on the other end. When he saw her, he stood from his chair and walked over to the window overlooking the expanse of Aubrey Hall.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t acknowledge her beyond that.</p><p> </p><p>“I am aware of the numbers,” he said into the phone, perturbed, “but it is a flagship magazine. If we are truly considering putting it on the chopping block…”</p><p> </p><p>Silently Kate set his tea on his desk.</p><p> </p><p>He kept his back to her.</p><p> </p><p>“…then find a way to revitalize. Make shifts in the hierarchy; if we are a seeing a plateau then it is something on our part. Have you spoken to analytics? We must adapt—” He snapped his mouth shut, a tight and jerky nod following.</p><p> </p><p>Kate tapped her nail idly on her mug. She could tell he was going to take a while, but she’d rather wait and watch him work than be alone in the massive house. Keeping to herself and silent, she scanned the study. Most of the furniture was relics from the late eighties and nineties, with a few ancestral and antique pieces, such as the settee and wingback armchair. Wood finishing lined the walls, books upon books nestled into the embedded bookshelves. Kate did not need to scan more than one to two shelves to conclude half the selections were not his own.</p><p> </p><p>She was positive Anthony never cracked open the book <em>Diagnostics on the Human Experience: Philosophy and Psychology of a Psyche</em>. He hated philosophy.</p><p> </p><p>Quickly she realized her theory in regards to his study had been right—nothing was of his own, all inherited. Basic, necessary updates had been made, but nothing had Anthony's mark or style.</p><p> </p><p>She refrained a snort; in her head a voice sounding oddly like Daphne’s chimed ‘he has no style.’ But he did. Warm, earthy tones. Cozy. Clean. Masculine mid-century—</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s head snapped to her.</p><p> </p><p>Apparently her snort had not been as muffled as she’s hoped.</p><p> </p><p>“I would also claim it is not professional to remark on my personal life,” he muttered into the phone, grasping for a notepad on his desk. “Which has nothing to do with the business.”</p><p> </p><p>He picked up a pen and scrawled hard on the paper.</p><p> </p><p>The notepad was held up to her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’m working. Come back later.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She swallowed down the rising dread crawling up her throat.</p><p> </p><p>He waited for her to give an indication she read the note.</p><p> </p><p>Kate gave a thumbs up.</p><p> </p><p>Satisfied, he turned away once more, facing the window.</p><p> </p><p>Turning on her hell she left his study and shut the door behind her.</p><p> </p><p>All Kate could think as she made her way up the stairs back to <em>her</em> room, the Rose Room, was maybe she’d made a mistake—a horrible, grave mistake.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>She made and ate dinner by herself.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone else was still gone, Violet sending a text about the family spending the night at the Crake House at Aunt Billie’s insistence.</p><p> </p><p>Kate knew she was trying to give them space as well as give the family and guests something to do before they became restless from being cooped up in the house for most of holiday. She understood the matriarch’s intentions.</p><p> </p><p>But that didn’t make her feel any better.</p><p> </p><p>She wished Newton was there with her. Kate did not thinking anything of it when Gregory asked her on Sunday night if they could take Newton with them to Crake House. At least if she had Newton with her she could cuddle him and know she was loved by her fur baby.</p><p> </p><p>None of the few staff the Bridgerton’s had on-call were at the house either, sent off after Sunday for the rest of the holiday. She heard Violet mentioning a few days prior about keeping maintenance on-call, due to the incoming storm, but otherwise no one else was there.</p><p> </p><p>She brought a plate to Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>He was on another phone call.</p><p> </p><p>Kate left before he could try to scrawl another note.</p><p> </p><p>A (naïve) hopeful part of her assumed he’d come to bed with her. Slip into the room in the quiet of the night.</p><p> </p><p>So Kate remained awake. She busied herself. Sketching until her hands grew too restless. Folding then refolding the towels in the ensuite’s linen closet. Reorganizing his personal collection of books by color.</p><p> </p><p>She had a feeling reorganizing his books would bother him; his collection had been organized in alphabetical order. Yet she found this all the more reason to continue the task.</p><p> </p><p>When she finished with his bookshelf, she resumed the hunt for her missing hair-ties and scrunchies. However ten minutes into her search, it donned upon her that her hair-ties would not be in his room, especially if he now knew she was aware of their disappearance.</p><p> </p><p>The most logical place for Anthony to hide anything would be in his study.</p><p> </p><p>The very same study he had been locked up in all day. The one he still kept in as the hours waned on, past midnight.</p><p> </p><p>Grabbing an old sweater from his wardrobe, knowing the house to get cold at night, she slipped the wool over her pajamas and left the bedroom. Under the dim lights of sconces Kate made her way down to the study, her placidity from the day draining into burning annoyance. While she never considered herself clingy, she assumed—and assumed well—a husband would want to spend the day with their wife <em>the day after</em> their wedding. Didn’t matter if it wasn’t real yet, it was supposed to be real for <em>them</em>, her and Anthony. That’s what mattered.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t supposed to avoid his wife at all costs.</p><p> </p><p>She did this for him, for christ’s sakes.</p><p> </p><p>Upon reaching the study, Kate grasped the door and—</p><p> </p><p>It was locked.</p><p> </p><p>She twisted the knob once, then twice.</p><p> </p><p>Locked.</p><p> </p><p>Her hand fell back to her side, hand biting into a fist.</p><p> </p><p>She wanted to scream. She wanted to kick the door. She wanted to bang on the damn wood until it gave or until he gave and he had no choice, but to open the door and <em>look</em> at her, damn it.</p><p> </p><p>But she didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Instead she took a deep breath, cursing at its shakiness, and spoke clear—“Anthony, are you coming to bed?”</p><p> </p><p>Footsteps crept closer. His shadow lingered under the sliver between the door and the wood floor.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t open the door or inch any further towards her.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be working late. Go to bed without me.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate did not know a piece of her heart could shatter so fast.</p><p> </p><p>Biting her lips together, she stepped back, praying the swell of pain behind her eyes did not dare release. “Okay,” she said, keeping her voice calm. “Goodnight.”</p><p> </p><p>She walked back up the stairs. One foot at a time, becoming more hollow with each step. Once she was upstairs, she shut off the lights in the corridor and made her way back to <em>her</em> room in the dark.</p><p> </p><p>For the first time in days she crawled into her bed in the Rose Room, the time-softened flannel sheets welcoming her like an old friend.</p><p> </p><p>Face pressed into her pillow, Kate finally allowed herself to cry.</p><p> </p><p>She had never regretted a decision so much in her life.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kate woke to the sounds of the Bridgerton’s coming back to Aubrey Hall.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth’s shouts at Gregory filled the corridor, followed by twins own yelps and chatter and Phillip’s grumblings after them. Daphne’s laughter and Eloise’s snappy remarks traveled up as they all made their way back to their rooms.</p><p> </p><p>She heard them hush each other, murmurs of how she and Anthony must have still been asleep.</p><p> </p><p>Another bout of tears threatened to push forward to the surface.</p><p> </p><p>Kate shoved them away along with any other notions of equableness she pandered out the day previous. She was not going to stand for this shit, especially from Anthony of all people.</p><p> </p><p>Like the kind and respectable person she knew she could be, Kate dressed for the day and went to greet the Bridgertons. She smiled and hugged each of them fiercely. Thank you’s were shared to Gregory and Hyacinth for caring for Newton, followed by listening to Colin and Benedict recount a vicious horse race they engaged in at Crake House.</p><p> </p><p>Kate played the part with perfect precision; she laughed, she smiled, and she listened with rapt attention. She tried her best to be herself, pretend she wasn’t crumbling inside while being surround by <em>his</em> ridiculous, chaotic, and loving family.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully no one noticed.</p><p> </p><p>That is except for Violet, who asked about the elephant in the room once all her children and guests went on their way, filling the house with life the ancient home lacked the last day.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Anthony?”</p><p> </p><p>“In his study,” Kate replied, clipped. She mentally cursed herself the instant she spoke. His mother would see right through her; she had enough children and perceptiveness to catch when something was amiss, like all decent and good mother’s did.</p><p> </p><p>Violet’s cheerfulness dimmed, concern pinching her brow. “How long has he been in his study?”</p><p> </p><p><em>Since yesterday, or perhaps longer; I wouldn’t know</em>, hung on the tip of her tongue. Yet she said—“Doesn’t matter.”</p><p> </p><p>She tried to smile through the pain, tried her damn best yet…</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Kate.” Violet’s arms wrapped around her before Kate could inch away or protest. She did not hug back, but rested her chin against Violet’s shoulder, not realizing how achingly she needed a mother’s embrace.</p><p> </p><p>She did not ask Kate what had happened—not that Kate could give an exact answer, as she was still in the dark, blind as to what caused Anthony’s sudden distance because she knew, <em>she absolutely knew</em>, work was not the only reason. Violet simply held her, sensing she needed someone to hold her and be a silent rock for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Talk to him,” was his mother’s only suggestion.</p><p> </p><p>“I plan to,” Kate assured her, pulling away. No tears were shed, Kate keeping the dripping well locked away in pits of her resilience.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I’m really fucking tired of this shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s head snapped up, the email in front of him long forgotten at the sight of her. Kate entered the study with her jaw set and burning frustration in her eyes. The door was shut firmly behind her followed by the click of the lock.</p><p> </p><p>She whirled on him, arms crossed and mouth in a stubborn frown. She was upset; terribly upset in the way to make him want to bury his head in the sand and let this be done and over with. He couldn’t stand to be the cause of this, but he gave himself no choice.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me what is going on.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know what you—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t give me the bullshit,” she said, eyes narrowing on him. “You’ve left me alone all day yesterday. You probably have every intention to leave me alone today. Tell me what happened.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have work—”</p><p> </p><p>“I said don’t give me bullshit,” she repeated, terse. “I know something happened because on Sunday night we were fine. Better than fine, we got married.” Her sharp reminder jabbed him deep. “We got married because <em>you</em> wanted to get married. It was your bright idea. You were the one who suggested it when I was fine to act like nothing had changed—”</p><p> </p><p>“You never told me that,” he said, closing his laptop. He pushed his glasses higher on his nose, keeping the higher ground, this was his space after all, and attempting nonchalance. “That you didn’t want to get married. That you’d be fine if nothing changed between us.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think my exact words were—‘You sound insane. You aren’t thinking clearly.’” She shot back. “I feel like those words imply I am not keen on the idea.” Her perceptive eyes locked on him, seeing through him. “But that wasn’t what we were talking about and I know you changed the subject on purpose, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>He clenched and un-clenched his jaw, looking at her, but not quite meeting her gaze. He did not want to see what else her dark eyes carried, not when he had learn to read her so well. “I have work.”</p><p> </p><p>“No one works the day after their wedding,” she argued, “and you know it. Hell, no one works almost twenty-four hours straight when they are on fucking holiday. Tell. Me. What. Happened,” came each word clipped. “Because something had to have happened if you are hiding in your study from me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not hiding from you,” he mumbled.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you are,” she said, stepping up to the edge of his desk, looking down at him. “You are hiding. You are avoiding and I have absolutely no idea why. So I am going to repeat for the last time: tell me what happen—”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have cancer. No tumors. Just migraines.”</p><p> </p><p>Her mouth snapped shut. Relief flooded her, a hesitant smile blossoming from the corner of her lips. “That’s fantastic news. Brilliant news,” a gravity of lightness swept through her words, her smile growing. “Why didn’t you say so sooner? When did you even find out—”</p><p> </p><p>“I think we made a mistake,” he forced the words out. Over his clasped hands pressed to his chin, he witnessed her smile dropped in terrible flicker. He ducked his head down, chest quaking. “We…we were stupid. Really stupid to think—to think to get married. Because I could have been dying. But I wasn’t. Not all. In fact the doctor says I maybe have another sixty years ahead of me which…” Opening and closing his mouth, Anthony could not find the words to surmise how he felt about <em>that</em>. Anthony cleared his throat. “We shouldn’t have done it. We shouldn’t have done this—<em>us</em>. It was a reckless, impulsive idea. One I should have never roped you into. Doing something like this is unlike me. I should have never kissed you that night or any night or pursued this—it was stupid, selfish, and pointless—”</p><p> </p><p>“I cannot believe you.”</p><p> </p><p>Her mouth formed a thin line, gaze hard on him. Labored breaths came through her nose, a flash of composure breaking.</p><p> </p><p>Then a resilient mask slid right into place, intent on him. “I cannot fucking believe you. But better yet, I cannot fucking believe myself.” An empty laugh bubbled from her. Licking her lips, Kate nodded to herself, more mirthless chuckles tumbling out. Her dark perceptive gaze was molten, sinking in on him. “I cannot believe I let myself be <em>so</em> naive to fall for you. For your charms, your sweet words, your term of ‘dearest friend’,” she spat.</p><p> </p><p>Hearing the words echoed back at him, Anthony bit his tongue, wanting to explain. Wanting to correct, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Not now, not ever.</p><p> </p><p>Her right hand worked on her left, tugging and pulling at the rings on her finger. The rings he place. “Because you know what Anthony, this isn’t like me either. I’m not the woman who makes stupid choices. I’m not the woman who let’s herself fall for handsome men who live in grand country homes. I’m not the woman who falls in love, <em>period</em>. I’m the smart one, the logical one, the one who puts everyone else before her—I know I’m like that. And for some damn reason when I’m around you that all flies out the fucking window.”</p><p> </p><p>The rings were free from her left finger.</p><p> </p><p>She set them on his desk, stack on one another.</p><p> </p><p>They slid apart, clattering against the wood.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think I like who I am around you,” she said down to him. “Because I’m not myself when you’re around. Because I know me and I would never let myself marry a coward like you.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stood up, hands planted on the desk. “I’m not a coward!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you are,” she told him, not bothering to raise her voice to his level. She remained firm and even toned, not letting her temper have its way with her. “You are a coward. Do you think I don’t know you’re not in love me?”</p><p> </p><p>He recoiled. “Kate—” he began.</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head. “No. No, don’t try to find an excuse to explain yourself. I <em>know</em> you’re not in love me. I know you haven’t said it and I never expect you to but…” Kate swallowed tightly, palms braced on the edge of the desk opposite him. “But I thought you at least loved me enough as friend, as a confidant to say it back and mean it a little. A braver man would admit how he felt.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t argue with her. All Anthony did was remain silent.</p><p> </p><p>His lack of response upset her further, the <em>pain</em> he saw the other night—full, angry <em>pain</em> consumed her. Kate pushed herself away from the desk, another bout of broken, empty laughter filling the study. “You know what, I’m <em>glad</em> we didn’t really get married and never sent the paperwork. We can pretend this was a massive lapse of judgement, a summer fling that got out of hand, and maybe I’ll share this ridiculousness as an antidote to my great-nieces and great-nephews when I am old and decrepit!” She gave a guileless shrug.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate—” he tried again.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to leave,” she told him, point blank. She took another step back, adding more agonizing distance. “I’m packing up and leaving by this afternoon. I don’t want to be around you. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you.”</p><p> </p><p>He glanced out the window. Dark clouds hung low and threatening. “Kate, you’re being rash—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m being <em>rash</em>?” she echoed back, jaw dropping. “I’m the one who is rash? Have you looked in mirror lately, Anthony? The man who proposed marriage, gets married, and <em>retracts it all back</em> in less the forty-eight hours is the one who is rash. Not the woman who was trying to make him happy!”</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you even care about my happiness?” he roared, through with her verbal blows. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be the punching bag, no matter how much he deserved it. “You didn’t even know me a month ago! <em>You hated me</em>! You wanted to be nowhere near me!”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I love you and I care about you,” she gritted out, eyes brimming with tears. “I’ve said it. And I’ll say it again because I’m not afraid to let you know. Seeing you unhappy hurts me; it hurts me so much, I want to do everything in my power to make it right. I’ve never cared for anyone the way I care for you. And you got that piece of me without even trying!” Kate exhaled shakily. “I thought you understood how I felt and how terrified I was? Didn’t we promise each other to be terrified together?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you and it terrifies me,” he said, the words barely making a sound against her lips. A secret held between them.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Her nose gently bumped against his, eyes softening into a tenderness he never knew before. “I’m terrified of this too…” Her hand rested against his, anchoring him back down to earth with her before his worries swept him away. “But I’d rather us be terrified together than apart.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Doesn’t matter what I promised or didn’t promise,” he edged out, recalling the instance vividly. How could he forget? “I shouldn’t have visited you that night—”</p><p> </p><p>“Why on earth can you not let yourself be happy?”</p><p> </p><p>The question cut through, clear and razor-sharp.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s mouth dried.</p><p> </p><p>Why couldn’t he let himself be happy? <em>Because he didn’t know fucking how</em>. He didn’t deserve it; there were plenty of people in his life who deserved happiness more than him and he’d do anything to make sure they received their happiness. He was insignificant in the equation when it came to those he loved. Like Kate—she deserved far better than him and he wasn’t going to trap her in a impulsively thrown together relationship. He wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Furthermore, what humiliated him was this was not the first time he’d been asked the question—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He swallowed tightly. “It doesn’t matter what I want. What matters is everyone is happy.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Edwina frowned, deeply concerned. “Anthony, why can’t you allow yourself to be happy?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her sister saw right through him, sensing his struggle. Perhaps sensing his own ingrained fears despite he never voicing any of them aloud to her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“You are such a bullshitter.” Simon’s hollow chuckles felt like spikes in Anthony’s chest. “Why can’t you let yourself be happy? You’d be happy with her, damn it.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Last night,” Kate began, a croak in her throat, “you said I make you so happy…” Her entire being vibrated, her restraint to not shove him, scream, or kick the nearest object valiant. He’d never be so at ease and relish in anger, wielding pain like a weapon. Not like her. Kate was the perhaps the bravest, most honest person he knew and she proved this again and again. Even now, asking the wounding question. “Was it a lie?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>With all his strength, Anthony forced himself to meet her eyes. To look at her and speak. “We can’t do this, Kate. I can’t do this. I cannot allow myself to be with you anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>Her lips pressed together, eyes fluttering shut.</p><p> </p><p>She nodded once, then twice. Hands clasped together in front of her, she squeezed for dear life. Yet she did not cry, not a single threating tear rolled down her cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay…okay.” Hands dropping to her side, any hurt she felt was quietly packed away and replaced by a staunch resistance. “I’m done embarrassing myself for your sake. I’m done.” Kate walked away from the desk, head held high and steps sure. She’d be fine without him; she could live the rest of her life without him and live a full life. Like she said she wasn’t the woman who fell in love—she had other priorities, aspirations, and most of all the loveliest spirit. Finding love again, despite her past claims, would not be hard for her. “I’m not going to fight for someone who clearly does not want to be fought for. Goodbye, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>She walked out the door and did not look back.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anthony hated himself for doing what he did. For letting Kate walk out the door and not chasing after her. He’d be lying if he claimed to not listen for her; to listen for the tell-tale sign of a suitcase thumping down the stairs or yapping of Newton on his leash. Or the open and close of the front door, signaling her departure.</p><p> </p><p>Astonishingly, nothing came. Her threat to leave did not come to fruition.</p><p> </p><p>He was beyond relieved. Not for the sake of trying to save their relationship, but more so the fact a steady rain had come down upon Aubrey Hall. Nothing too horrendous, no flashes of lightning or thunder, but absolutely the beginnings of the looming summer storm.</p><p> </p><p>Kate would be fine. She wouldn’t be traveling during a storm. Even if she despised him now and wanted to be nowhere near him, she was logical enough to know it best to stay at Aubrey Hall until the storm passed.</p><p> </p><p>For the remainder of the morning he kept to his study. Kept the door locked. Ignored all knocks and calls from his siblings.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne— “Anthony, I know you are in there! You should not be working right now; go be with your wife.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin— “Mother wanted me to tell you there is food and if you don’t eat, I’ll eat your serving!”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict—“I don’t know what is going on with you…but if you need someone to talk to about whatever, I’m here. Know that.”</p><p> </p><p>Thunder began to creep mid-day. He felt the urge to run to Kate, check-in on her. See if she need anything but—</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t do that. He could not.</p><p> </p><p>So instead he dug into his drawer and found an old pair of earbuds and plugged them into his laptop. He put on classical music, recalling reading once it stimulated and increased brain function, and resumed his work (read: distractions).</p><p> </p><p>He did not leave his desk for what felt like hours, Trying his best to not cry, to not think about her.</p><p> </p><p>To not think about why he could not let himself be happy.</p><p> </p><p>What did that even mean? He’d been happy plenty of times in his life, for his siblings most often. His mother often told him he’d been a happy, carefree boy. He knew happiness; <em>he did</em>.</p><p>
  
</p><p>His felt the stare of his father’s portrait.</p><p> </p><p>“I had to do it,” he told his father.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund, the still-life, said nothing.</p><p> </p><p>“I had to let her go,” he said, the strings thrumming in his ears low and deep. “I’m not good enough—”</p><p> </p><p><em>“You can just be you, and you are more than enough, Anthony.”</em> His mother’s words rang in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Okay…maybe that <em>is</em> an excuse. Not being enough. Because on paper…I suppose I’m not that bad. A bit impulsive when…when freaked out, but not too bad. Right?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony peered up at his father, waiting for him to say the right words to ease him.</p><p> </p><p>The question was met with silence.</p><p> </p><p>A huff came through his nose, Anthony rubbing at his jaw. “And I didn’t lie to her. I never lied to, Kate. It’d be impossible. She sees right though me and…and maybe I took advantage of that. Because the last time someone could read me like a book was…” He looked at the mirth captured in his father’s eyes, nearly as bright as the days he lived. “…was you.”</p><p> </p><p>Chewing his lips together, Anthony dropped his face into his hands. “God—<em>fuck</em>, what have I done?” he murmured into his palms.</p><p> </p><p>He understood now. Why he kept making excuses. Why he kept saying he wasn’t good enough, even if it wasn’t true. Why he pushed everyone away, his mother and siblings and now Kate. Why he kept those surrounding him around on his terms.</p><p> </p><p>Because the last person who made him happy, made him feel seen, and understood him the best, was his father.</p><p> </p><p>Then his father died. Suddenly. Without warning.</p><p> </p><p>His favorite person in the world was snatched from him. Before he was ready. Before he felt like a man. Before he even really knew himself.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he couldn’t allow himself to be happy because the last time he experienced any genuine carefree happiness, no looming anxieties or responsibilities weighing down on him from the back of his mind, he lost his very best friend.</p><p> </p><p>But losing his father wasn’t his fault.</p><p> </p><p>However, losing Kate would be.</p><p> </p><p>Earbuds yanked out, laptop snapped shut, and his chair banged against the desk in his mad dash out the door.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony had to tell her.</p><p> </p><p>He had to tell Kate how much he loved her. How he was stupid and pushed her away because damn it, he didn’t know how else to react—because he didn’t want to lose someone who made him so happy and who he cared about all over again.</p><p> </p><p>He had to tell her now. He couldn’t waste any more time.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Kate?” Anthony demanded entering the den. “Have any of you seen her?”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise and Phillip looked up from the puzzle they were doing with Oliver and Amanda. Or more so Amanda was doing while Oliver handed her pieces.</p><p> </p><p>“Why the hell—”</p><p> </p><p>“Bad word.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise cursed under her breath and handed sweet little Oliver a bill from her pocket.</p><p> </p><p>“Why the—” His sister rolled her eyes. “—<em>heck</em> would we know where your wife is?”</p><p> </p><p>“Last I saw her she was upstairs with Newton,” Phillip supplied, helpful.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you!” Anthony shouted over his shoulder. Taking three steps at a time, he ran past Francesca, nearly pushing her out of the way in his haste.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hey</em>!” Francesca cried out. “Slow down!”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t bother with an apology, skidding to a stop at his bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>Flinging open the door, he was met with an empty room. Perfectly organized and cleaned, as if no one had been there in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>—other room.” Three feet over, he threw open the door to the Rose Room.</p><p> </p><p>Empty. No Kate. No Newton.</p><p> </p><p>Except for her packed luggage. Her suitcase rested on the floor, zipped and locked. The weathered duffle bag and beloved satchel sat on her bed, both clipped and closed shut. On her bedside table her phone sat charging.</p><p> </p><p>So much for calling her or texting her. Not like she’d answer.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he breathed out, pushing off the doorframe and marching to next closest bedroom. If she wasn’t downstairs then she had to be somewhere with somewhere upstairs damn it.</p><p> </p><p>In his hurried chase he checked several rooms. Francesca’s. Daphne’s. Mother’s Hyacinth’s. Gregory’s. None of them were upstairs and neither was Kate.</p><p> </p><p>He banged on Colin’s door. He heard voices. No one answered. “<em>Colin</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“What? I’m kind of busy!”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope’s giggles came from the other side of the door.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony rolled his eyes. “<em>Really</em>, Colin? In the middle of day, when anyone can hear you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up! Like you wouldn’t—”</p><p> </p><p>“Have either of you seen Kate?” Anthony shouted, cutting to the chase. “At all today?”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Both shouted. “Now leave!” Colin added a half second later.</p><p> </p><p>Stepping away from the closed door and feet moving on autopilot for the next person in his path, Anthony scrubbed his face, growing frantic. “Where the hell is she?”</p><p> </p><p>Booming thunder shook the house. The lights flickered.</p><p> </p><p>The storm was getting worse.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck it. “Kate!” he shouted through the hall and down the stairs. “Kate, where are you?” He continued to call for her until he reached the kitchen, finding his mother making herself tea. “Mother, have you seen—”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “No. But your siblings and I can hear your shouts from across the house,” she quipped, smirking. “It’s kind of amusing in a silly-sadistic sense.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t not warrant her response with a scowl, instead he asked, “Are you sure you haven’t seen her?” he breathed, trying to catch his breath. “I need to speak with her. <em>Now</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. Not since this morning,” she answered, pouring a dash of milk into her cup. “If she’s not in the house, have you tried looking outside? Maybe she took Newton for a quick walk?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nearly laughed at the absurdity of the suggestion. “Kate hates the rain. She’d never take Newton out in this weather.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check—<em>damn it</em>,” Mother cursed mid-sentence, turned towards the kitchen window. The downpour took a turn for the worst, nearby flowerbeds overflowing as well as the open pool. “I’m going to have to call maintenance. If the pool and flowerbeds are looking like that, imagine the lake?” The lake had a habit of flooding during rough downpours, causing small mudslides along the paths surrounding. Not to mention the current grew stronger, the lake an unfortunate hazard during and after storms. “I’ll see about having sandbags set out there…”</p><p> </p><p>She was already on the phone, pacing away from him.</p><p> </p><p>Another crash of thunder roared to life, rain coming down impossibly harder.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony tensed, clenching and unclenching his hands. He needed to find Kate before the storm became worse.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe she was hiding and simply could not hear him, paralyzed by fear. More than once she mentioned how she became absolutely unfunctional at the sounds of aggressive thunder and flashes of lightning. She didn’t like anyone seeing her during storms, preferring to be alone. He wouldn’t put it past her to be tucked away in a corner of the house no one resided.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony!” Gregory’s called out, nearly out of breath like he’d been running a marathon. He came to a stop in the kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you—” He inhaled deeply, panting, “—I heard you calling for Kate—”</p><p> </p><p>“You know where she’s at—”</p><p> </p><p>“I think she’s still outside.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony blanched. Blood drained from his head down to his feet, utterly petrified.</p><p> </p><p>Words continued to tumble out of his brother’s mouth, verging on frantic.</p><p> </p><p>“About—about an hour ago she decided to take Newton for a walk because the rain wasn’t that bad and she said something about going out before the thunder started because she hates thunder—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony plowed past Gregory, straight to the mudroom. “When exactly did you last see her?” he demanded. “Come on Gregory! Remember—was it <em>really</em> an hour ago? Half-hour?” He dug around the room, shoes from everyone in the house scattered about. After a millisecond of searching, he spotted his wellingtons and shoved them on. He snatched his jacket from the rack and zipped himself up.</p><p> </p><p>“It was an hour. I’m sure of it,” Gregory affirmed, following Anthony’s lead and pulling on his own boots and jacket. “I didn’t think anything of it because she always walks Newton around this time and usually takes an hour, roaming the estate, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Anthony ground out, “<em>I know</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“But then you were calling for her. And then I realized how <em>long</em> she’d been gone and her mentioning how she doesn’t like thunder and then the rain got worse—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony clapped a hand on his shoulder, forcing his youngest brother to met his gaze. “Greg—I need you to breathe and shut up.”</p><p> </p><p>A shaky exhale left the boy. “Right. Okay—she’s gonna be okay <em>right</em>? I mean, it’s just rain. <em>Right</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know. But he wasn’t going to tell his brother that. “I’m sure she’ll be—”</p><p> </p><p>The bulb above them flicked out.</p><p> </p><p>In a hummed <em>zoom </em>the power went out throughout the entire house.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fuck! I can’t see shit!” </em>Eloise’s curse echoed from the den.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Calm down, Eloise! You know this always happens during the big storms</em>,” Daphne called out from further in the house.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go,” Anthony ordered, “before I have to deal with them,” he muttered. He had more pressing matters.</p><p> </p><p>Like finding Kate.</p><p> </p><p>Coming to the back door, Anthony opened the door—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Water flooded in.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>—and then immediately shut it.</p><p> </p><p>The overflowing pool was now spreading across the rest of the patio and down to the mudroom entrance.</p><p> </p><p>“Front door,” he barked, shoving Gregory along.</p><p> </p><p>The two hurried out to the foyer, bypassing the kitchen, Violet, Daphne, and Simon catching sight of them in their haste.</p><p> </p><p>“You two are not going out in that storm!” Mother ordered, following after them. Her hand grabbed at the back of Gregory’s jacket, pulling him over to her side before he could follow Anthony any further. “It is apocalyptic out there! Why on earth—”</p><p> </p><p>“I have to go,” Anthony shot back, hand on the door. “Kate was walking Newton earlier and she's still out there.”</p><p> </p><p>Panic shined in his mother’s eyes, before haste understanding and determination came forward. “Then go. We’ll follow after. Form a search party.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No</em>,” he told her. “No, I don’t want anyone else going—”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going!” Gregory interjected boldly, shaking away his mother’s hold. “You can’t go out there alone, Anthony. If she’s hurt someone will need to stay with her while the other gets help!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony blinked, stunned by his youngest brother. Gregory had never been one to stand up for himself, often pushed around by <em>all</em> the siblings.</p><p> </p><p>But in this moment, Anthony realized his brother was a young man. One who could make his own decisions, one he helped nurture for most of his adult life, and one who cared deeply about his family and friends—perhaps just as much as Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>“Just because you are in love with her, doesn’t mean we didn’t fall in love with her too,” Gregory told him, marching up to his side and opening the door. Speckles of water splattered across their face as the wind picked up. “She’s family.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t realize…” Anthony began.</p><p> </p><p>“Because you never get out that damn head of yours,” Gregory said, shrugging.</p><p> </p><p>“You two need to go <em>now</em>,” Violet insisted, pushing them out. “Keep your phones on, even if they don’t have signal. If one of you doesn’t come back in thirty minutes, I’m calling for help and sending someone else to get you.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was already hurrying down the front steps of Aubrey Hall, hood up and over his head. Gregory quickly followed, matching him in stride.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Be careful!”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Uproar cried form the heavens, thunder caving in upon the estate.</p><p> </p><p>They had to move quick.</p><p> </p><p>“She takes her walks by the lake,” Anthony shouted over the wind, leading up the hill. The sludge of the grass and mud made the trek difficult, but thankfully the slope had a gradual incline. “She’s never taken another way.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s good. I guess?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony shook his head. “Depends on if the lake is flooding—”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Believe it or not, I am not the strongest swimmer.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Anthony paused, turning to her. “You don’t know how to swim?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I know how,” she stressed. “My sister and I learned around the same time. I am just not a great swimmer.” she corrected. “There is a distinct difference.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“You were literally hanging above the lake the other night and you didn’t think to mention this?” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Twirling her mallet side to side in her right hand, she shrugged. “I wasn’t too worried. You were there with me. I knew if I fell in you’d pull me right out.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>His face softened. “You trust me that much?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Why wouldn’t I?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony!” Gregory shouted out ahead of him. “Come on!”</p><p> </p><p>Numbness crept into Anthony chest, a horrifying thought taking root within him.</p><p> </p><p>Kate wasn’t the best swimmer. How was he barely fucking remembering this now?</p><p> </p><p>And it only got worse from there—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I broke my leg when I was seventeen. A car accident during a thunder storm.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He winced, concern shining through his eyes. “That’s a double whammy for you.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>“Yeah…” She exhaled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside him. “I, uh, panicked behind the wheel and lost a bit of control.</em> <em>No one else was harmed. Just me out in the countryside, trying to get home.”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>All he could see was Kate walking Newton in the rain by the lake. Thundering downpour growing more and more vicious. Panic overtaking her, frozen in fear. The mud slick. Newton tugging too hard—</p><p> </p><p>The harness slipping right off Newton.</p><p> </p><p>Her feet skidding right out from under her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate falling—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I’d find a way to break your fall.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“You didn’t last night,” she informed him. “I landed on my back. You landed on me.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I was not anticipating a fall.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“So you will only catch me if you anticipate a fall?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Most falls are not anticipated, Anthony,” Kate reminded him stoutly, a teasing grin forming, “they come unexpectedly. Hence the gut dropping effect.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Then I will catch you in both anticipated and unanticipated falls.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>—falling right into the lake. The current too strong. Lithe arms trying their best to reach for something, anything to keep her afloat. To keep her head above water.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, god. Oh, god no. Not Kate. Kate couldn’t—</p><p> </p><p>Anthony began to keel forward, hands braced on his knees breaking him from falling face first into the hill.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t breathe. All the air felt trapped and unmoving.</p><p> </p><p>His chest was on fire, an unbearable pressure resting right on his sternum.</p><p> </p><p>A logical voice told him to <em>breathe</em>. That this moment will pass and he needed to <em>breathe</em>.</p><p> </p><p>In and out.</p><p> </p><p><em>Breathe</em> because he couldn’t very well pass out in the middle of the biggest summer storm when he was looking for his wife. She wasn’t supposed to go first. He was supposed to. That was supposed to be the natural order of things. That how he expect it to be. He his father. Kate unfortunately his mother. Not the other way around. He couldn’t end up like his <em>Mother</em>—</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Anthony</em>!” Gregory’s shout roared him back to reality. “Anthony, come on! I need your help!”</p><p> </p><p>Air whooshing back into his chest, adrenaline pumping at an alarming rate, Anthony surged forward and caught up with his brother.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?”</p><p> </p><p>Gregory was crouched on the ground. It only took three more steps to see what had caused his brother to drop down and huddle.</p><p> </p><p>“Newton!”</p><p> </p><p>Panting up at him and absolutely drenched, the corgi whimpered sadly. He did not seem harmed in anyway, only spooked by the weather and shivering from the cold.</p><p> </p><p>Frowning, Gregory cuddled the dog tighter to his chest to protect him from the elements. “I found him barking by the tree.” He nodded to said tree just up a head. Anthony noted it was the landmark he often used when hiking up to the recreational shed. The shed was only another ten to fifteen yards away, along with another low hanging tree. “He doesn’t have his harness or leash.”</p><p> </p><p>“He probably slipped out,” Anthony shouted, the wind howling against his words. He pushed away the image of Kate falling from his mind again. “She never puts it on him tight enough.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then she must not be far?” Gregory tried.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe,” he muttered, squinting through the rain. He checked the grass around him, looking for foot-tracks, yet came up with nothing. Her footsteps were washed away in the rain.</p><p> </p><p>The lake beside them ran furious down the hill, rippling and crashing in harmony with the rain. A steady, fast current, but not one rough enough for someone who knew how to swim or paddle to wade through with some exertion.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony spared Newton another look.</p><p> </p><p>His paws weren’t muddy. At least, not as muddy as they should have been if he’d been marching about in the grass for some time. Anthony crouched down, inspecting Newton further. He was wet but…</p><p> </p><p>Pulling at Newton, he pressed his face into his fur and sniffed.</p><p> </p><p>“Ew!” Gregory cried out. “He’s filthy!”</p><p> </p><p>“He smells like the lake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course he does! He’s been by the lake, Anthony—”</p><p> </p><p>“No, like he was <em>swimming</em> in the lake,” Anthony spat, clamoring back up to his feet. Glasses thoroughly fogged and speckled with rain, Anthony shoved them into his inner pocket and squinted out towards the recreational shed up the hill.</p><p> </p><p>In their daily walks, Kate never ventured further than the rec shed. She’d stay there for a while, play with Newton by the water, but always came back down. Otherwise the walk would be too long for Newton’s little legs and she’d have to carry him.</p><p> </p><p>“Take him back to the house.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Gregory yelped.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony charged full speed ahead, as vigilant and agile as he could in the thickening, slick mud. “I know where she’s at!” he called over his shoulder. “Take him back!”</p><p> </p><p>Ignoring Gregory’s protests, he continued on his way, one foot after the other until he made it up to the rec shed. Slippery hands reached into his pocket, Anthony drying his glasses and putting them back on. He tugged his hood tighter around him, shielding as much rain as he could from his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate!” he called out, rounding the corner of the shed. “Kate! Can you hear me?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked out to the lake, scanning the waters then the tree.</p><p> </p><p>The low hanging branch had been broken off. Gone.</p><p> </p><p>The very branch she held on to when they’d tried to retrieve the damn purple croquet ball.</p><p> </p><p>Then just over the lake, on the other side, he spotted a familiar blue windbreaker huddled by the overflowing bank and nestled against the opposite overarching tree. Not moving.</p><p> </p><p>His breath stilled. Gut lurched. “No…no, no, no, no!” This couldn’t have been happening. Not his worst fear coming to life. Not this. Never <em>this</em>. “<em>Kate</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to be her time. Not now. Not ever. Not while he was still alive.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony ran into the water. “Kate!” he shouted again, wadding through the five foot once shallower waters. “Kate! No, this can’t happen! It can’t be you! It’s supposed to me—I’m supposed to go first! Me! Not—not you,” he babbled, a sob creeping violently out his throat as he fought against the rain and pushing current. “Kate, this is not—this not how it’s supposed to be, <em>damn it</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>He reached the bank, crawling up to her. His heart shuddered. She couldn’t die like this. Not like this. Not after he pushed her away. Not before he could tell her how he felt.</p><p> </p><p>Frantic, slipper hands grasped at the back of her windbreaker, rolling her over. “You can’t die Kate! You cannot die first! I refuse! <em>I will not allow it</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What the hell are you going on about</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Her screech hollowed with the wind.</p><p> </p><p>A hand clamped over his arm, firm and tight, keeping his hold on her back in place.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s heart leapt into his throat, relieved tears spilling.</p><p> </p><p>She was alive. Oh god, she was actually alive!</p><p> </p><p>Confused, wild eyes met his. “Anthony, how—how did you find me?”</p><p> </p><p>Damp, muddy curls sopped against her face. Her entire front was covered in mud, except for one arm curled around the base of the tree.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a creature of habit,” he panted out, finding himself grinning deliriously. “And your dog’s a devil.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate groaned, dropping her head back against the tree trunk. “He ran off—”</p><p> </p><p>“Newton’s fine. He’s with Gregory and back at the house,” he hurried out. “Are you okay? Are <em>you</em> fine?” he croaked out. His free hand pushed the curls out of her face, rain pelting down harder. “What happened?” he demanded, fingers wiping away at his glasses as they became speckled with more rain.</p><p> </p><p>Kate laughed at him. She actually <em>laughed</em> at him. He never thought he’d hear the sound again.</p><p> </p><p>Thunder clattered.</p><p> </p><p>A haunted look overcame her, struck by terror. A faint whimper followed, coming from the back of her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony scooted closer until he loomed over her, shielding her from the rain. “Hey, look at me, Kate.” He gathered her in his arms, Kate curling into him. An exhale shuddered through her. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hard to believe,” she quipped darkly against his chest.</p><p> </p><p>He winced. “Yeah, I deserve that one.”</p><p> </p><p>“You deserve more than that one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Got it,” he breathed, too relieved to be annoyed. “Want to try to tell me what happened? How you got here? To take your mind off—”</p><p> </p><p>Lightning flashed in the distance, over the hills.</p><p> </p><p>She flinched into him. Slender fingers clutched at his jacket, Kate burying her face into his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Rain continued to poor, but not as hard. Only steady and unrelenting.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t checked the time in ages. He was positive his mother must have sent someone after them. A good decision considering nothing in the world could make Anthony leave Kate’s side. Not even the summer storm.</p><p> </p><p>As much as he wanted to get out of the rain, he knew Kate wouldn’t dare move until the thunder and lightning ceased or at least paused long enough to cross the lake. Thankfully, she did not appear injured, only exhausted and frightened by the storm.</p><p> </p><p>Quietly, Anthony hummed the only tune to come to mind at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>“…<em>and rain will make the flowers grow</em>…” he mumbled in tune.</p><p> </p><p>Ever so slowly Kate lifted her head from his chest, eyes narrowed in bafflement. “Are you humming…<em>Les Mis </em>to me?”</p><p> </p><p>“I uh—”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re humming ‘Little Fall of Rain,’” she said, craning her neck up at him. She stared up at him, amused yet horrified. “Eponine <em>dies</em> during that song!”</p><p> </p><p>“It was the first one to come to mind and I hum when I am restless, <em>okay</em>?” he said, embarrassment flushing his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you hum when you're restless but did you have to choose <em>that</em> song,” she raised her eyebrows. "It's fucking morbid in this situation!"</p><p> </p><p>“I found it fitting.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate smacked his chest with her fist.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence once again fell between them.</p><p> </p><p>Thunder cracked, only this time further.</p><p> </p><p>Another whimper followed half a second later.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony began to hum again.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop humming <em>Les Mis</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t stop. In fact, he hummed louder. As loud as he could without outright singing.</p><p> </p><p>“I said stop,” she grumbled, low and dark. “I’m still upset with you! And I don’t want to talk to you! And all I can fucking hear it your ridiculous humming!”</p><p> </p><p>“Good! That’s what I want!”</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell are you—”</p><p> </p><p>Thunder sounded again, except softer. At a distance.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes widened, oddly touched. “Are you trying to distract me? From the thunder?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Anthony answered, not sounding breathless for once. “Yeah, I am.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” she grounded out. “I’m still mad and you and—and you don’t want me around—”</p><p> </p><p>“Because the first vow I ever made to you was a fear truce and I intend to keep it.” His arms tightened around her. “I said, when there is a thunderstorm, find me. And since you very well could not find me, I found you.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate blinked up at him, lips parting in surprise. “I, uh—I didn’t think you'd remember—”</p><p> </p><p>“I remember the entire night, Kate,” he said softly, meaning every word. “I remember talking to you until the storm faded away. Talking to you well past midnight about anything and everything. How you laughed—loud and full and with reckless abandon,” he sighed, looking down at her in utter wonder. His heart lifted to see the same reflected back in her dark eyes. “I remember that night so vividly because it was when I started falling for you. And it terrified the fuck out of me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” The emerging joy in her extinguished.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no,” he caught her left hand in his, missing the rings that belonged there, “I mean—I mean I didn’t tell you all my fears that night. I only told you one.”</p><p> </p><p>“The bees.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he nodded, tensing at the mention of the deathly, pesky nuisances, “the bees. And that’s the one thing I regret out of all of this; not telling you <em>all</em> of my fears.”</p><p> </p><p>Understanding shadowed Kate. “I know you have a lot of fears, Anthony. Your face reveals them every day.” She wiggled her hand free from his. Cool fingers pushed his moppy hair out of his face and off his forehead. “I know you fear leaving everything behind in the event of your death.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, death I expect it to come for me sooner than most. I fear <em>living</em> even more,” he confessed. “I feared falling in love because look at my mother. She was a wreck after my father’s passing. I fear finding happiness because the last time I was happy my life got fucked,” he said with a broken chuckle. “Then you come along and…” He waved to air, as if saying ‘what can you do.’ “And you’re all my fears and desires and needs wrapped in one.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s dark eyes roamed his face, lips chewed together.</p><p> </p><p>She plucked his glasses right off his face. “I’m sorry, I cannot take you seriously wearing those with all that rain smeared on them.” She folded the glasses and dropped them into her pocket.</p><p> </p><p>A small half-laugh came through her nose when she looked back up at him. Her cool, damp hands reached for his face, pulling him to her until her cold nose touched him.</p><p> </p><p>“If you are saying what I think you are saying, then I want to hear the words,” she told him, firm in her request. “No more beating around the bush. No more saying the words but not saying them at all. I want to hear you <em>say it</em>. I want to hear—”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>All words ceased.</p><p> </p><p>Kate stared at him unabashed, open and honest in the way he absolutely adored.</p><p> </p><p>She looked at him like she loved him too.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony never felt so light, so free, letting those words come out and mean it with every fiber of his being.</p><p> </p><p>God, he wished he expressed his love for her sooner. As soon as he felt it.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said, grasping her hands again. He held her palm to his chest, for her to feel his every word. “I’m sorry I never said it until now. That I never said it to you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t say it to myself.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate pushed herself up, eyes locked on him. The hand on his chest slid up to join the other, behind his neck; it felt like she was coming home, back to him with every confident touch. A smirking smile pulled on her lips, warm despite the chilling air. “I love you too. So much." She shivered, Anthony finally noticing how pale she became. “But get me out of this fucking rain so I can kiss you properly and feel my toes again.”</p><p> </p><p>He jumped in alarm, at the ready to get them somewhere warm and safe. “Yes! Of course!”</p><p> </p><p>Thunder long gone and lightning far in the distance, Anthony pulled himself up to his feet and helped Kate stand. She wobbled a bit, legs asleep and body aching from laying in the mud and against a tree trunk for so long.</p><p> </p><p>Instead of crossing the water as he’d done earlier, he led her down the length of lake on the opposite side of her usual path. Anthony’s arms remained around Kate the entire slow and slippery walk, keeping her tucked in his side until they reached the simple wood bridge towards the front of Aubrey Hall.</p><p> </p><p>Once they stepped within sight of Aubrey Hall’s tall windows and grand front entrance, the double doors swung open.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>He found her!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Within seconds Bridgertons came bustling to the door, all fighting each other to get outside to see the two for themselves.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth and Gregory stood at the front of the pack, standing right at the edge of the steps, still covered from the rain. Yet it seemed neither could contain themselves once he and Kate reached the steps, both jumping Kate in a crushing, fighting embrace.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Hyacinth cried out. “We were so worried.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony could have sworn he saw tears in the corner of his youngest sister’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Gregory, on the other hand, <em>did</em> cry. “I should have said something about you being gone sooner. I’m so sorry, Kate—”</p><p> </p><p>“Gregory, it’s fine,” she assured, “I’m fine. I really am.”</p><p> </p><p>The words came out breathless. Both released her, their words beginning to overlap each other as they recounted events from their end. Anthony carefully helped Kate up the steps, sending a pleading glance to his mother.</p><p> </p><p>“Then the lights went out—”</p><p> </p><p>“—but not for long.”</p><p> </p><p>“But enough to freak everyone out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then Daphne and Eloise started yelling about the lights—”</p><p> </p><p>“—Which was stupid—”</p><p> </p><p>“Hyacinth, Gregory,” Violet called out, “go inside and check on Newton. I am sure he’ll be happy to see Kate.”</p><p> </p><p>Neither needed to be told twice about fetching the dog, racing each other and shoving along the way. The rest of his siblings shared their relief, happy to see both were well despite being gone for long in the storm.</p><p> </p><p>However Kate’s step stuttered once they were alone in the foyer, Mother hurrying off to find more towels for the two.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you all right?” he asked, keeping an arm around her.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” Kate bit out. Yet she swayed.</p><p> </p><p>She’d been outside in the rain for a long time. Too long.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, let’s sit you down.” Anthony began to lead her to the entry bench, arms firmly around her</p><p> </p><p>“I said I’m—” Her words slurred together and eyes rolled back, her legs giving out completely half a second later.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony could only watch in horror as Kate fainted in his arms.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>He said it! FREAKING FINALLY AM I RIGHT?</p><p>Some Notes ~</p><p>1. My personal theme song for this chapter is "Yes I Have Planned This All Along" (to the tune of 'It's Been Agatha All Along') 😂😂😂 I planned all the way back in January for the storm to be the moment of 'I love you'.</p><p>2. Nothing is perfect between Anthony and Kate, and she IS still upset with him, but we'll cover all those nuts and bolts never chapter. As well as Anthony FINALLY explaining 'dearest friend'.</p><p>3. Anthony with his daddy issues. Yes, I plan for him to attend therapy at the request of nearly EVERYONE commenting last chapter. I actually planned on him attending therapy prior to all that for the sequel so YOU'RE WELCOME.</p><p>4. Reminder: Kate faints in the book. SHE WILL BE FINE. Not gonna pull anything else drastic at this point, lol.</p><p>4.5. ON THE SUBJECT OF KATE: I don't remember if I gave Miles a profession in the past. I have reread this fic several times and I don't think I did, but it is said in this chapter and that's what it is--if I said something else, I redact that (this fic is 224570 words long...so things do occasionally slip past my mind as we have discovered in the past, lol.)</p><p>5. My theatre nerd shows in this chapter. LES MIS 😂</p><p>6. Seriously next chapter will be later in the week. Possibly the weekend. BUT A COMPANION FIC WILL BE UPDATED.</p><p>7. NO BROKEN LEG. I have no regrets.</p><p>8. We will catch up with some other characters in the next chapter. None of them really knew what was going on with Kanthony in this chapter, just that something was wrong and neither wanted to talk about it!</p><p>ALSO~ More songs have been added to the playlist! :)</p><p>Let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Dearest Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So.....this is technically the last chapter before the epilogues.</p><p>*ducks away from tomatoes and pitchforks* I KNOW I SAID 35 CHAPTERS BUT ENDING HERE FELT RIGHT. YOU'LL UNDERSTAND.</p><p>Also~ If you haven't read Chapter 29, go back and read it! Kind of a VERY important chapter!</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Face pressed into her arm, hugging the tree trunk in the pouring rain and mud, Kate thought she was going to die.</p><p> </p><p>A part of her nearly laughed, chaotically, when she pulled herself up on the bank because <em>of fucking course</em> she’d die after telling off the man she loved and at the most glorious, beautiful estate she’d ever known to exist. And during a <em>thunderstorm</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Her luck worked like that.</p><p> </p><p>Kate believed she was being proactive and smart when she took Newton for a walk. The rain was pouring, but she’d been vigilant with her weather apps and news sources; the thunder and lightning would not reign it’s hell until the afternoon. Taking Newton for a walk a little after noon was logical.</p><p> </p><p>Then halfway through their walk the rain came down harder.</p><p> </p><p>Newton trekked on, undaunted by the weather. And Kate, being the decent dog owner she liked to believe she was, humored him. She let him happily trot and waddle about, tongue out and panting. He caught all the little droplets in his happy smile.</p><p> </p><p>Her fur baby always had a way of lifting her spirits. She knew he’d be sad to leave the Bridgertons, growing accustom to their affection and love. They’d taken him into their fold with open arms, just as they did her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate tried not to dwell too long on the fact ending her relationship with Anthony also meant potentially severing her ties with his family.</p><p> </p><p>Despite her reservations about the weather, she and Newton stayed out far longer than Kate intended, deciding to let her dog have his last hurrah running about the estate. He deserved it.</p><p> </p><p>Except the rain took a sharp turn for the worst.</p><p> </p><p>Once the drops came down in violent pelts, Kate tried to pull Newton along and back down the hill. Yet the dog was far too happy to march about in the mud and dig his nose into the wet grass of the lake’s bank.</p><p> </p><p>The increasingly <em>flooding</em> lake.</p><p> </p><p>With all her might she tugged him away, only for Newton to skid through the mud, his leash and harness slipping right off of him. He barked happily, thinking it was a game, but Kate’s panic rose as it became harder to see in the haze of the downpour. Realizing if she ever wanted to get out of the rain she’d have to carry Newton back to the house, Kate tucked his leash into her pocket and began to pick him up—</p><p> </p><p>Only for Newton to leap right out of her arms and into the lake.</p><p> </p><p>A scream tore through her, Kate jumping to the water after her dog.</p><p> </p><p>He paddle about in the water, uncaring of his mother’s efforts to retrieve him.</p><p> </p><p>The lake was shallow enough for Kate to walk through the water, yet the current pushed hard against her body and swept her feet from under her more than once as the storm progressed towards its crescendo.</p><p> </p><p>With flailing arms and adrenaline her biggest aid, she caught Newton and pushed him up on the bank.</p><p> </p><p>He shook off the lake water—as if it’d do <em>anything</em> in the rain—and waited for her.</p><p> </p><p>With two valiant leaping tries, Kate grasped the low, somewhat sturdy hanging branch over the lake to pull herself out. She kicked her feet out, hoping to gain some stable footing on the bank or at the very least the base of the tree.</p><p> </p><p>A <em>crack</em> sounded above her.</p><p> </p><p>With a belated shriek Kate tumbled back down into the murky water.</p><p> </p><p>Miraculously the broken branch did not hit her, Kate releasing her hold of the wood as she fell. The branch along with several twigs and leaves easily swept away in the current, down the rushing water.</p><p> </p><p>Kate on the other hand found herself on the opposite end of the lake, holding on to the large protruding roots of the tree across the water. She pulled herself up as best she could on to the muddy bank, labored, panicked breaths sputtering out of her.</p><p> </p><p>Newton yelped and barked, jittery as the rain fell impossibly harder. He was scared for her, Kate could tell by his high pitched whining ticking up with each passing minute.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Stay, boy! I’ll be there</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>Her shouts were eclipsed by roaring thunder.</p><p> </p><p>Kate froze.</p><p> </p><p>Thunder boomed again.</p><p> </p><p>She felt her body cower in on the tree trunk as paralyzing numbness crawled through from her chest to each of her limbs. Water crashed and flowed in the lake, lapping up against the bank, yet never quite reaching her. Only taunting to pull her in.</p><p> </p><p>Newton barked. He barked and barked, followed by whimpers as he came closer to the lake and then skittering away.</p><p> </p><p>Tears welled in Kate’s eyes and fell down in frightening speed. She wanted to run to Newton and wrap him in her arms and comfort him. But she <em>couldn’t</em>. She couldn’t even lift a finger, let alone charge across the water like some stupid, valiant hero.</p><p> </p><p>She was a sitting duck, at mercy to the furious elements crashing down upon her.</p><p> </p><p>In the small bout of silence, she turned her head enough towards Newton’s direction.</p><p> </p><p>“Go, boy! <em>Go</em>! Get out of here!”</p><p> </p><p>He yelped once more and dashed away.</p><p> </p><p>She sobbed as she watched him go, thunder coming down again in rumbling waves.</p><p> </p><p>This was how she was going to die. Laying in the mud. Alone. During a storm. Cold.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>She was going to die. She was going to absolutely die. She was going to die in a storm, her worst nightmare coming to life.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The words played on loop as the storm raged, hiccups wracked her in painful bursts.</p><p> </p><p>She had no idea how long she laid there on the bank, hugging the tree, rain never ceasing it’s havoc upon her. Her phone was back at the house and she didn’t bother with wearing a watch. More often than not paint got on wristwatches she owned, or she’d end up smacking it against a wall or desk or even a counter due to her own clumsiness, breaking it.</p><p> </p><p>At that moment she wanted a wristwatch.</p><p> </p><p>At the very least she’d be able to keep account of the how close the thunder crept and how much longer she’d have to wait for it to fade away. Or rather, she’d be able to keep count of thunder claps when she was in the right mind.</p><p> </p><p>Which she wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Because she was going to <em>die</em>. The thunder hovered right above her and was going to break her into a million pieces.</p><p> </p><p>She wanted her Mum. She wanted her Dad.</p><p> </p><p>Damn it. She wanted Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>He’d hold her and say something stupid because he was ridiculously stupid as he was clever and he’d make everything feel ten thousand times less scary with his warm, stupid smirk on his stupid grumpy face. Perhaps with him there she wouldn’t feel like death was waiting right above her, over her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Kate</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>She was dying. That had to be it. Because now she was <em>hearing</em> him—did one hallucinate when they were on the brink of death?</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Kate! Can you hear me</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Kate</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>More babbling frantic shouts came from across the lake, drowning in the rain. “<em>Kate! No, this can’t happen! It can’t be you! It’s supposed to me—I’m supposed to go first! Me! Not—not you!”</em> A violently sob echoed in the wind, coming closer. Water splashed about, rough and unforgiving. <em>“Kate, this is not—this not how it’s supposed to be, damn it!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Frantic, slippery hands grasped at the back of her windbreaker, rolling her over. “<em>You can’t die Kate! You cannot die first! I refuse! I will not allow it!”</em></p><p> </p><p>“What the hell are you going on about!”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Explain to me again—this time slower—what happened.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony gulped.</p><p> </p><p>Mary raised an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“A mild case of hypothermia due to being caught in a storm.”</p><p> </p><p>Her mother raised an eyebrow, not at all pleased with the vague, simple sentence Anthony justified as an explanation. “I swear to god Bridgerton if I am called back to Kent or Aubrey Hall <em>again</em> this month for something that is your cause or doing I am going to find a way to kill you.”</p><p> </p><p>Threat sinking in, Anthony nodded once. “Noted.”</p><p> </p><p>Huffing through her nose, Mary turned back to Kate, who laid in a hospital bed watching their exchange with amusement. “Are you sure you are okay, Katie?”</p><p> </p><p>Her heart lifted at the old nickname. “I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not fine,” Anthony shot back, “you had hypothermia.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mild hypothermia and I am getting discharged this afternoon,” came her acute reminder. Restless fingers fiddled with her hospital issued blanket; she hadn’t been able to sit still since waking up. “I feel fine. Just tired.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your body temperature dropped,” Anthony informed her. “Low enough to warrant staying in the hospital overnight.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you did pass out,” Mary added.</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s side are you on?” Kate cried out to her mother. “Don’t you want me to be well? <em>I’m fine</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“If it was me, I’d have you stay longer,” Mary told her, mouth in a firm line.</p><p> </p><p>Kate rolled her eyes. “I’m staying as long as the doctor says I need to. Once I am given the clear, I am going.”</p><p> </p><p>Neither Mary or Anthony were convinced she was fine, but neither argued with her either. Her mother turned back to Anthony, mildly irked with her. “I trust you will see to making sure she doesn’t do anything too strenuous or stressful?”</p><p> </p><p>“Cross my heart,” Anthony promised with flourish. His index finger mimicked the gesture on his chest. “She shall be well taken care of and you will not need to leave town unless it is my mother inviting you for brunch and mimosas.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary snapped her fingers into a vicious point under his chin, a warning to him, her stare chilling. “You’re a cheeky one. It’s always the cheeky ones to watch out for. Doesn’t matter how much I like you.”</p><p> </p><p>He grinned at the compliment. Both Mary and Kate groaned, annoyed at the sight.</p><p> </p><p>Shuffling off back to Kate’s side, Mary tucked her sheets a bit tighter and fluffed up her pillows. “Are you sure you are okay? Do you need the nurse? More water?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mary,” Kate began, peering up at her mother fondly, “you know the old adage nurses and doctor make the worst patients?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Mary said impatient.</p><p> </p><p>“It also applies to being the worst parents of patients.” At Mary’s beguiled frown Kate took her hand in hers. “I appreciate you coming here to check in on me and helping Anthony with any blanks in my medical paperwork. But go home. You only have so much time off and you don’t need to spend it worrying about me.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s my job to worry about you.” Mary pressed a kiss on the top of her head and wrapped her in a quick, careful hug. “Doesn’t matter how old you get, I’ll always worry about you.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary released Kate before stopping by Anthony once more. “Call me—”</p><p> </p><p>“Every hour, on the hour. I already have alarms set.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes narrowed on him, slightly impressed. “Good.”</p><p> </p><p>Once Mary gave her final goodbyes and walked out the door, Anthony sighed in relief. “I was afraid she’d murder me on the spot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mary’s too kind for murder.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure about that? All parental figures are capable of murder if provoked just enough.” Clearly he spoke from experience. Kate would not be surprised if Anthony had a story or two of near murders he committed in honor of his siblings.</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled tiredly. “I like to believe she is not capable of murder. She is a nurse. She’d probably be able to hide it well.”</p><p> </p><p>A flash of fear flickered in Anthony’s eyes. She refrained a snort. Anthony being afraid of Mary was an amusement Kate never thought she’d indulge, but one she looked forward to in the future.</p><p> </p><p>Kate nearly scoffed at herself—<em>the future</em>? She and Anthony had plenty to discuss in regards to the subject.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” she said, clearing her throat a second later. She hadn’t been talking much since she woke up besides briefly helping explain what happened to her to Mary. “For not telling Mary about my little storm freak out. For staying with me through the night and uh, all the flowers.”</p><p> </p><p>Almost two dozen bouquets surrounded them. Arrangements of various sizes. Tulips, roses, chrysanthemums, hydrangeas, lilacs, and peonies were amongst the most popular and used in the bouquets. On her bedside sat tulips—red, orange, and yellow. Bright and bold, filling her with warmth from the moment she woke in the middle of the night. Beside the tulips sat a simple, humble peony arrangement.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony followed her gaze. “You moved it,” he motioned to the peonies. He came closer to her, taking a seat on the edge of her bed, facing her. “I had that one—” Her husband scanned the room thoughtfully, the florescent lights above them causing a glare in his glasses. “—by the sink. I think. I don’t know. There’s a lot of them.”</p><p> </p><p>“About twenty?” Kate supplied.</p><p> </p><p>His ears flushed. “Yeah. About twenty.”</p><p> </p><p>If she did the math currently, as of the day previous they would have known each other for twenty days.</p><p> </p><p>Though Kate had a feeling he’d claim otherwise, Anthony was a terribly sentimental man. The flowers, each with a well-thought notecard, expressed emotions he perhaps did not feel apt to speak aloud. Each of the flowers possessed a meaning in the shades and colors of their petals, thought and care in bouquet selections.</p><p> </p><p>While she adored each bouquet and card with her entire heart, the peonies stuck a cord with her.</p><p> </p><p>“Peonies mean ‘a happy marriage’.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.”</p><p> </p><p>Her heart skipped a beat. <em>Of course Anthony knew what peonies meant</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“You want us to have a happy marriage,” she asked tentatively.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s hand captured hers, intertwining their fingers. “I want us to have the best marriage.” He then amended his statement. “I want us to have the best marriage for us. Whatever that may be.”</p><p> </p><p>Oddly she felt silly laying in a hospital bed, for hypothermia of all things in the middle of the summer, and discussing her <em>marriage</em>.</p><p> </p><p>So much happened in twenty-one days, Kate needed a moment to breathe. To reevaluate. To think a little clearer.</p><p> </p><p>Because she was not lying went she told him this wasn’t her. Making reckless decisions, falling for handsome men with grand country houses. She was the smart one, the logical one, and Kate had to force herself back into the role she knew well in order to function like a proper human again.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you,” she began, lifting her eyes to meet his warm, open gaze. He’d never been so unguarded, she almost lost her breath at the honesty at home in his eyes. “I do. But I do think we need to <em>slow down</em>. A lot.”</p><p> </p><p>She held her breath, afraid of what he’d say. Afraid to learn she shattered his heart.</p><p> </p><p>Instead she got—“I agree,” Anthony huffed through a broken chuckle; both relieved and saddened by the revelation, “I was going to suggest the same thing.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hand tightened in his, Anthony returning with just as much strength. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to send the paperwork. To make this official,” she felt the need to say. “Because weirdly enough, I do want to stay married to you and figure this out <em>slowly</em>,” she emphasized at the end.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s lips quirked up in a threatening smirk. “So…you want to go slow, but you want to stay married?”</p><p> </p><p>“Someone once told me it’s either me or no one for you,” she said carefully, recalling Simon’s words that night at the pub. The words haunted her for the last week, a heavy yet earnest observation of Anthony. Better yet, a startling observation of herself. “And the selfish woman in me does not want to challenge such a statement. I want you to stay mine, for as long as you will be mine.”</p><p> </p><p>The emerging smirk on his lips turned into a softer smile. He shifted closer until their thighs touched and he could gentle thump his forehead against hers. “I never considered you to be the possessive type, Kate,” he teased.</p><p> </p><p>“Never had anyone to be possessive about,” she said back in matching tone.</p><p> </p><p>He pulled away a fraction, regarding her levelly. “So we still want to send the papers. We get approved and do the twenty-eight day wait and then—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then we decide from there,” she said, confident and content with the decision thus far. “Once we are approved and finish the twenty-eight day wait we have a year to get legally married. We can do that whenever we want.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you think you’d still want to be married to me in a year?” he asked, apprehensive. “Because I think we both know…I’m not going to be the perfect husband,” he confessed, becoming blunt on the matter. “I’m going to make a lot of mistakes. <em>Several</em>. I only know how to cook breakfast food. I work long hours and even when I try not to, I still do. I can’t help it. My family doesn’t know how to function without me—I drop everything to help them. Not to mention I think I might have um,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “daddy issues—”</p><p> </p><p>“You <em>think</em> you might have ‘daddy issues’?” she asked, eyebrows lifting at the phrase. “How did you jump to that conclusion?”</p><p> </p><p>She knew he had ‘daddy issues’, but Kate was never <em>too</em> sure if <em>he</em> was aware he had these underlying conflicts.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s heavy exhale filled the room. He scratched idly at the scruff growing along his jaw, considering the question thoroughly. “I think…it finally hit me yesterday. Just with glaring clarity and harshness. Like a smack upside the head,” he winced out. “But I’m going to fix that,” he rushed out. “I’m going to fix a lot about me—”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t need fixing, Anthony,” Kate told him, hating how horribly he spoke down upon himself. “You need someone to talk to. There is no fixing. You aren’t broken. Don’t speak of yourself like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate…” Anthony pulled his hand away from hers, dropping his hands together on his lap. “I do need fixing because I regret the way I’ve act the last few days. Pushing you away, claiming all of this was a mistake. It wasn’t a mistake; farthest from it.” Biting his lips together, he met her concerned stare. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you alone and freaked out. I shouldn’t have done that. You did not deserve that. You don’t deserve a husband who’d push you away. You deserve a thousand times better—a better man than I could ever be.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate didn’t immediately answer, inhaling the sight of him, of his apology.</p><p> </p><p>This man was not perfect. Far from perfect. Would never be perfect. Kate knew this before ever meeting Anthony.</p><p> </p><p>He was stubborn, occasionally hot-headed, grumpy, a workaholic, overprotective, a micro-manager, overcompetitive—the list could go on.</p><p> </p><p>But he was also kind, compassionate, witty, clever, sentimental, loyal, funny, selfless…</p><p> </p><p>Anthony put everyone’s needs before himself, and she was witnessing him doing it <em>again</em>—even after she said she <em>wanted</em> to stay married to him after all. There were pros and cons to everyone, Anthony included. But she needed to address this before they went any further.</p><p> </p><p>“If we are going to stay married, you are going to need to stop this,” she said.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop what?” He blinked at her, stumped.</p><p> </p><p>“The ‘you deserve better’ shit,” she told him. “Because you know what? I do deserve better and I don’t want to listen to you lament about it, I want you to <em>just do it</em>. Do what you think I deserve and if I don’t like it, I’ll tell you,” she shrugged. “I have no issues telling you how I really feel.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” he clucked his tongue, “you don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not perfect Anthony. I’m not either—”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re insufferable,” he said far too fast, mild frustration marring his features. “Too blunt and lack all common sense.”</p><p> </p><p>She did not fight off her scowl. “But you still love me, don’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” His gentle smile returned, tugging on her heartstrings. An ‘I love you’ rested warmly in his ‘yes.’</p><p> </p><p>“That’s how I feel about you,” she said. “Let’s agree to be perfectly imperfect together as we go forward, slower this time?” She paused, reconsidering her words. “That we grow together as we go on?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony leaned forward and brushed away the stubborn curls falling to her eyes. His thumb drew down along her cheek before resting under her chin, drawing her closer. “Growing with you will make me the happiest man alive.”</p><p> </p><p>Their tender, quiet kiss held a promise.</p><p> </p><p>A promise to fall more in love, and choose to love, every single day.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The end of holiday swept by quickly—quicker than Anthony could have ever anticipated.</p><p> </p><p>Kate was put on bedrest for the remainder of the week, much to her chagrin. She’d been forced to spend most of her days confined to bed, for sleep and ‘relaxing’ activities—this involved sketching, reading novels, and snuggling her devil dog. Anthony tried his best to be at her aid, yet by the second day she threatened bodily harm if he checked in on her more than once in an hour. She needed space, and Anthony could respect her wishes.</p><p> </p><p>However, despite bedrest orders Kate put her foot down when it came to meals. She wanted to spend what little days she had at Aubrey Hall surrounded by the rest of the Bridgertons. His family was more than happy to have her around, chatting lively with her and catching her up with all the events and mishaps occurring around Aubrey Hall. She was just as much a Bridgerton as they were, if not more. His family was hers.</p><p> </p><p>With the end of July looming closer and closer, guests and family soon began to take their leave.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise, Phillip, and the twins left by the end of the week, on the twenty-third. All her hastily packed belongings from her arrival were smushed and shoved into Phillip’s car.</p><p> </p><p>She was moving back in with him. His little sister was going to make the relationship work, more determined than ever, contrary to the multiple curve balls thrown her way. Guardianships and menacing children with hearts of gold were not going to scare her away. Anthony would expect no less; Eloise was dauntless.</p><p> </p><p>On the front steps of Aubrey Hall she brought him into a hug, nearly breaking his neck in her ferocity. “Thank you, brother.”</p><p> </p><p>“For what?” he muttered into her shoulder, chin digging into her as she held him tighter.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know if I would have ever gotten him back if it wasn’t for you.”</p><p> </p><p>He sniffed, eyes watering. Eloise had been so heartbroken, so distraught over a man none of them knew, of a part of her life she never shared with anyone else. Not even Penelope, her closest friend.</p><p> </p><p>And now…</p><p> </p><p>Just over her shoulder, Anthony spotted Phillip. Waiting.</p><p> </p><p>Anyone with eyes could see Phillip adored Eloise; he listened to her when she rambled, knew how to shut her up when she went on too long, and spoke highly of her intellect as if there were no one better in the world. He came all the way to Aubrey Hall to fight for her, even dragging along his niece and nephew.</p><p> </p><p>“I think you would have gotten him back—”</p><p> </p><p>“Take the compliment,” she said through watery chuckles. “Because it’s the truth. And I don’t give them out all the time.” Eloise pulled away, wiping under her eyes. “No one saw me cry, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just me,” he teased.</p><p> </p><p>Her nose wrinkled. “Ugh, it’s always just you, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugged, arms crossed over his chest. “But what are big brothers for than being a shoulder to cry on?”</p><p> </p><p>She groaned, shoving him away. “Being in love made you more sentimental, it’s disgusting.” His sister hurried out to the car with Phillip, stopping before she ducked into the passenger seat. “I’ll call you when we get back into town, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you!”  he called out, giving a final wave.</p><p> </p><p>Just as he was about to head back into the house, Amanda popped her head out of the car window. “Uncle Anthony, tell Newton I love him and will see him soon, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>His brain malfunctioned at the term ‘Uncle Anthony’—never in his life did he think he’d hear the phrase, assuming he’d be gone before any of his siblings future children were old enough to speak.</p><p> </p><p>But hearing little bossy Amanda shout ‘Uncle Anthony’ gave him an odd sense of hope.</p><p> </p><p>“Will do, Amanda!” he shouted back, grinning.</p><p> </p><p>Her bright smile carried across the road as the makeshift family drove away.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict was soon to follow, leaving on the Sunday. Ethan left ahead of him.</p><p> </p><p>When Anthony asked about the two, his brother stiffened then shrugged, resuming his packing. All he had with him was a small weekender bag considering Benedict would not be gone for too long. His studio was at Aubrey Hall, he occupying the old pool house for at least three-fourths of the year.</p><p> </p><p>“You know…he and I are fine. Just at different places right now,” Benedict explained vaguely. He roughly zipped up his weekender bag. “And that’s fine. He has plenty of things to do and life to live before he is ready to settle down a bit. And that’s fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“The more you say ‘that’s fine’, the more I believe maybe it is <em>not</em> fine?” Anthony eked out, lounging on Benedict’s sofa.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict huffed, tossing the bag over his shoulder. “To be frank, I don’t know what it is. Doesn’t mean I love him any less…we’ve just reached a cross roads and there’s nothing wrong about that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right.” Anthony shrugged, feigning understanding.</p><p> </p><p>His brother deftly saw through him. “Not all of us fall in love and get married in less than a month, Anthony. You and Kate are a special breed of lovesick morons.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are all going to lord this over me for the rest of my life, aren’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>Benedict’s bark of laughter shook the room. “Oh brother, you have <em>no idea</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>He left with a promise of dinner and drinks when Anthony got back into town.</p><p> </p><p>Colin and Pen declared their leave the next Monday. They wanted to spend some time alone together before Colin left for his next trip on the first of August.</p><p> </p><p>“When you come back from Argentina we can figure out the flat situation,” Anthony suggested the morning of Colin’s departure. They sat side by side in the breakfast nook, nursing their coffee. The sun had yet to rise, a quiet darkness spanning outside the house.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony liked the stillness of mornings. Colin as well, one of the few commonalities between the two.</p><p> </p><p>“Cool,” Colin breathed out, hugging his mug close to his chest. “I don’t have much to move anyway so whenever you want to make it official is fine by me.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nodded once. He lifted his mug for another sip, watching as light began to peak over the horizon. “I might still be there for a while, but it will be your flat. Things with Kate are…”</p><p> </p><p>“Shaky?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Slow</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Colin hummed into his coffee. He quirked an eyebrow. “Meaning…?”</p><p> </p><p>“She and I aren’t going to be living together immediately. But one day. Soon. Hopefully,” he added in succession, hoping to sound more confident under his younger brother’s attention.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s making you work for it, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah…” Anthony breathed out. “But rightly deserved.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Colin set down his mug on the counter, “you need someone to put you in your place from time to time. Kate’s really good at that.”</p><p> </p><p>“She is,” Anthony found himself admitting. Kate spoke plain to him, no beating around the bush for her. “I like having someone like her around.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too.” Silence lapsed between the two as Colin stood up and went back to the coffee pot. He served himself another cup and top off Anthony’s. “Um—by the way, thanks for letting me figure out the Penelope thing on my own.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s head shot up, tired eyes blinking blearily at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>“You have a habit of digging your nose into everyone’s business and trying to help in any way you can and what I’m saying is…thanks for <em>not</em> doing that and letting me fix my mistakes on my own.” His brother shrugged, a bit bashful and embarrassed. A rare sight from Colin. “And also for not dying.”</p><p> </p><p>A snort slipped through Anthony, he poorly concealing his laughter from behind his mug. “Not dying is always a good thing, Col.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m serious. I would have been pretty upset if you were really sick. I kind of like you,” he paused, considering the sentiment, “<em>sometimes</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like you sometimes too,” Anthony said, raising his mug up a vague salute. “And thanks. For being there for me through that scare. I…I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t tell you and Benedict.”</p><p> </p><p>“Eh, you would have combusted from the stress,” Colin gave a bored shrugged. “Nothing new.”</p><p> </p><p>“Glad I’m predictable.”</p><p> </p><p>“Only to a few of us,” Colin explained. He picked up his coffee, prepared to leave the kitchen, when he backtracked a few steps. Stopping across from Anthony, Colin did not utter a word, only staring down at the tile counter.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yes</em>?” Anthony pressed, sensing there was something else on his brother’s mind. Colin did not answer. “Col, do you need something—”</p><p> </p><p>“Franny talked to me about joining the family business,” Colin finally said, brows furrowed. “I…I told her I’ve never been interested. Not like how you are or she is or…or even how Benedict was for a while.” He worried his bottom lip, leaning against the counter as he carefully constructed his next words. “It’s never been my thing. Bridgerton Media Publications. Father never really talked to me about it—not that he’d talk to a <em>twelve</em> <em>year old</em> about joining the family business,” his eyeroll masked a pain he didn’t like to delve in, “but working as a freelance writer and editor and writing travel pieces…” His mouth turned up in the familiar, jolly Colin grin Anthony knew well. “I think I can get behind that. Just give me until the New Year. I have commitments until the end of the year, ones I need to follow through on, but by January I should have an open calendar and an open mind to pursue the position.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was rendered speechless.</p><p> </p><p>Colin…wanted to join the Bridgerton Media Publications? As a freelance writer?</p><p> </p><p>Had hell frozen over? Were they at the end of times? Anthony never believed he’d see the day his brother actually considered joining the business. The very thought sounded absurd, yet he knew what he heard.</p><p> </p><p>What was even more astonishing was <em>Franny</em> convinced Colin of the idea.</p><p> </p><p>His little sister was serious about Bridgerton Media Publications and she was going to move the mountains necessary to morph the company into her vision. An impressive move from the girl; he’d have listen to her more and give her credit when credit was due.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Anthony breathed out, mind still reeling over Colin’s decision, “okay, great. Yeah—yeah, you can wait until the New Year. I am perfectly fine with that.”</p><p> </p><p>His brother’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Great! Maybe this will be fun! I mean, both of us in <em>the same building</em>?” Colin buzzed in delight at the prospect, thoroughly chuffed. “I can pop up into your office whenever I damn well please! Why didn’t I think of this sooner?”</p><p> </p><p>All the blood drained from Anthony’s head down to his toes.</p><p> </p><p><em>Oh god</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Colin. In the same building. As him. Five days out of the week. Nine to five.</p><p> </p><p>The bastard was going to drive him <em>mad</em>. Bonkers, really, with his insistent nosiness and meddlesome antics.</p><p> </p><p><em>What in god’s good name had Francesca done</em>?</p><p> </p><p>Watching the terror don upon Anthony, Colin chortled. He chortled all the way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He chortled as he gave his final goodbyes later in the morning, and chortled when he called Anthony to let him know he and Pen arrived back into town safely.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh I cannot wait to see you every day brother dear!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony did not share the same enthusiasm.  “I cannot say the same.”</p><p> </p><p>“See? We already have a banter—a soon to be workplace banter!”</p><p> </p><p>He hung up on Colin before his brother could go on any further.</p><p> </p><p>The following day Francesca left with John in tow. Her departure was simple—no chortling like Colin, nor broken nonchalance like Benedict, or even a tearful goodbye like Eloise.</p><p> </p><p>She merely gave him a performative hug and kiss on the cheek and said, “I already added a weekly meeting time for us in your Google Calendar. We can discuss the details of my internship then.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re proactive.”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca shrugged one shoulder, a small smirk forming. “I try to be.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to need to be if you plan to take over the company one day,” Anthony said casually. “I can’t run it forever. And I don’t want to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I only hope to make you and father proud one day.”</p><p> </p><p>“You already do,” he told her, the weighty truth laid out.</p><p> </p><p>His sister’s bemused expression softened into a glimpse of the young girl she hid well under her tough, resilient exterior. “Thank you,” she edged out, refraining from dipping too deep into her emotions, “I really needed that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Franny whatever happens with…” Anthony ducked his head down, lowering his voice; after all, only a few of them knew, “…with your fertility health, please know you are not broken or—or need to ashamed. You are doing the best you can. Like you said, not everyone shares their silent struggles. Please be gentle with yourself.” When she began to frown, he added, “For your dear, old brother’s sake, be gentle to yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>She stunned Anthony by hugging him again. Tighter and desperate. “You’re a pretty good brother. I feel stupid for barely noticing it now.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony, for what felt like the first time in ages, hugged Francesca back, and meant the gesture.</p><p> </p><p>Once she left, Anthony found Aubrey Hall to far too empty. Only a few of them remained for the rest of the week. Gregory and Hyacinth were more often than not keeping Kate company and helping care for Newton, the two hoarding all of Kate’s free time for themselves. Meanwhile Violet and Daphne were already elbow deep in business planning, brainstorming ideas. No one wanted to cross their path in fear of being roped into an argument.</p><p> </p><p>This left Simon and Anthony to their own devices, a horribly wonderful turn of events.</p><p> </p><p>“I cannot believe it’s still standing.” Simon whistled low.</p><p> </p><p>Before them, proud and overran with vines and tree overgrowth, stood the old Bridgerton treehouse.</p><p> </p><p>“To be perfectly honest,” Anthony stepped up to the base of the tree, the ladder steps hammered into the bark, “I forgot it was here too until a couple of days ago.” He’d been walking Newton on one of the trails when the dog dashed off into the wood. Newton led him right down the old path, as though he’d known the old treehouse had been there all along.</p><p> </p><p>Testing his foot on the first step, Anthony pressed his weight down. Not a stumble or shift occurred under his foot, he satisfied with the sturdiness. One foot after the other, he climbed up the awkward, clunky steps.</p><p> </p><p>“You’d think it would have fallen apart by now,” Simon mused, following after Anthony. “When was the last time anyone used this old fort?”</p><p> </p><p>“Eh—” Anthony wracked his brain for the answer. Hyacinth and Gregory hadn’t been around Aubrey Hall for much of their youth. Daphne, Eloise, and Francesca may have been the last three to take residence and claim the treehouse as their own before the family’s official move back into town after Father’s death. “—maybe sixteen—seventeen years ago?”</p><p> </p><p>“Bloody hell,” Simon cursed, “if we die climbing into this decaying behemoth, I’m haunting you.”</p><p> </p><p>“How can you possibly haunt me if we are both ghosts?” Anthony asked snippily. “Two ghost haunting each other just sounds boring.”</p><p> </p><p>He could feel Simon’s eyeroll from below.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d find a way to make it interesting,” Simon informed him. “Maybe I’ll haunt your wife.”</p><p> </p><p>“If anyone is going to haunt Kate, it’s going to be me,” Anthony shot back down to his friend, jauntily. “It would annoy the hell out of her.”</p><p> </p><p>Reaching the top of the ladder, Anthony pulled himself up into the treehouse. Dusty floors, forgotten chairs and cushions, and massive piles of leaves greeted him. The ceilings were thankfully high enough for Anthony to stand to his full height, yet he still ducked his head, warry of the few protruding branches from outside finding their way in.</p><p> </p><p>He brushed off a spot near the open ‘window’ and sat down. Simon soon joined him, groaning as he plopped down on the miraculously sturdy floor.</p><p> </p><p>From the window they could see the top of Aubrey Hall.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony chest filled with the bittersweet warmth of nostalgia. He could name off a thousand different times he sat in the very same spot with his brothers or father, looking off to the ancestral home in awe and wonder.</p><p> </p><p>He could even name more than a dozen times he sat with the man beside him at the treehouse window, overlooking the estate. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with Simon, Anthony wondered what those two young boys from twenty to twenty-five years ago would think of them now. Devilish young boys who did not have a care in the world, who played pirates, astronauts, and spies, and declared in full heart promises to be best friends forever.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony liked to think those two boys would be pleased to know they stayed friends after a couple of decades, and even became family.</p><p> </p><p>“I think we should fix up the treehouse,” Anthony suggested. “Get it back up to its former glory.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon gave a deep chuckle. “Why? You want hide up here like old times again?” he taunted. “I’m pretty sure you’d throw out your back after climbing up and down that ladder one too many times.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was actually thinking for the children.”</p><p> </p><p>His best friend’s laughter halted. Head cocked to the side, Simon turned to him, stunned. “Children? Didn’t know you and Kate were thinking kids that soon.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stammered. “No—no. Not for my children—at least not yet.” He wanted children, had always wanted children, but never thought he’d find the right woman to start a family with. And if he couldn’t settle down by a certain age, he’d opt to adopt or seek a surrogate. But that was when he thought his time was limited…now, he forced himself to believe he had time. Plenty of time to go slow with Kate, to start a family when they were both ready. “I meant for Amanda and Oliver,” he clarified, “and—and Baby Basset.”</p><p> </p><p>Simon sat still. He swallowed tightly.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes darted away from Anthony and back out to the estate. Land stretched out far and wide, Bridgertons of the past climbing and dashing up the hills in their youth. Soon a new generation would join.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you have your own property and ancestral home and you gave it all up,” Anthony said, careful to not provoke old wounds for his brother-in-law, “but I like to imagine Aubrey Hall is just as much yours as it is all of ours. You spent all your summers here too. You’ve been a Bridgerton in spirit far longer than in marriage. I want this to be your kids home away from home too.”</p><p> </p><p>A shred of a tear shined in his oldest friend’s eyes. Then it was gone, Simon smothering the tears and emotion away before Anthony could say another word. Not that he would; he’d never tease Simon about shed tears.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll help you fix it up. Get it up to code.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do treehouses need to be up to code?” Anthony asked. “They’re <em>treehouses</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The aghast stare he received from Simon told Anthony he was in for a long lesson of the legalities of code enforcement. “Yes, Anthony! Treehouses have to be to code if you plan on having several children climbing and dangling from here, or if you ever plan for the estate to be reappraised. It would be considered an asset—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sat through the impromptu lecture for thirty minutes before he decide to up and leave. He and Simon could go over the necessary codes and legal matters later, such as when they planned to renovate and update the treehouse.</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, he was happy to have a project to look forward to with his best friend.</p><p> </p><p>On their way back to the house, however, Simon stopped him before entering the back of the house. “Does your offer still stand?” he asked, using his business tone.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s eyebrows furrowed, confused by the question. “My offer on…”</p><p> </p><p>“Returning to Bridgerton Media Publications as a legal consultant,” Simon answered, <em>almost</em> hesitant. However nothing about his friend had ever been hesitant, Simon rarely charging into any situation, negotiation, or argument unprepared. He must have been thinking over the matter for days, at the very least.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a standing offer,” Anthony told him, giving a half shrug. “Which means, yes. You can come back as a legal consultant if you want.”</p><p> </p><p>A relieved sigh expelled from Simon. “Good. I was hoping that was the case. With Daphne’s new business and the baby on the way, I need something more flexible and…and Hastings and Sons—”</p><p> </p><p>“Is running you to the ground?” Anthony finished, knowingly.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yeah</em>,” Simon ground out. “You’ve seen me this holiday. I’ve been working non-stop even on my leave time. None of them at the firm seem to understand I am <em>not</em> my father; I put my family and their needs first, unlike him.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nodded, Simon not needing to dive into anymore of his own familial trauma. He and his father had never shared love nor cared for one another, the father pushing his son away since birth.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, Bridgerton Media Publications is ready for you whenever you are,” Anthony assured him, clapping a hand on Simon’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Though Simon shared brief gratitude in the moment, Anthony knew the extent of his gratefulness when he and Daphne took their leave on the Wednesday, the last day of July. His brother-in-law hugged him—actually hugged him, Simon the notorious non-hugger—and made him promise for lunch later the following week.</p><p> </p><p>They hadn’t had a lunch together, just the two of them, in over two years.</p><p> </p><p>Where Simon was stoic, Daphne was the complete opposite, a blubbering mess.</p><p> </p><p>“So much happened this summer and I can barely wrap my head around it,” she said through a plethora of snotty, heavy tears. She smiled hard and gleefully despite her onslaught of sobs.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the hormones,” Mother muttered from beside him. “She’s been like this since yesterday.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony winced.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re married! And to the best woman possible,” Daphne continued to lament, pulling Kate into a bone-crushing hug. Kate, also not the aggressive hugging type, awkwardly patted Daphne’s back. His sister did not mind, instead hugging Kate harder. After a moment, Daphne pulled away and brought Anthony into his third hug that morning. “Francesca is engaged. Colin doesn’t have his head up his ass anymore about Pen. Benedict is living his best life and is happy. And somehow Eloise is like a step-mom and in love! And—and—and—” She hiccupped into his shoulder, Anthony smoothing a hand up and down her back as he used to when she had her crying moments as child. “Everyone is growing up so fast,” she mumbled. “I love it and hate it,” she whined into his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of family sent her warry glances, Hyacinth and Gregory looking at their poor older sister as if she grown another two heads.</p><p> </p><p>“This summer has been a lot for her,” came Simon’s calm defense. Gently, he pried his wife off of her brother and brought her back to his side. He handed her a handkerchief. Daphne blew her nose; <em>loudly.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Kate splendidly hid her wince. But not well enough for Anthony to not catch it.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, he swallowed down a laugh and faced his sister once more, composed. “Daff, enjoy the rest of your day and don’t drive Simon too mad.”</p><p> </p><p>She rolled her eyes and blew her nose again. “I do not drive my husband mad. He <em>adores</em> me.”</p><p> </p><p>“That I do.” Simon’s smile softened Daphne, her tears now dry.</p><p> </p><p>She bustled her way to give the family another round of hugs and goodbyes before Simon pulled her along, reminding her of afternoon traffic on the motorway.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony could not help but smile as his sister and best friend drove away, Daphne sticking her head out like a child and waving goodbye to them, just as she always did. She left like she was leaving a piece of herself behind each time, with every hug and kiss and visit.</p><p> </p><p>His sister drove him mad, but maybe she understood his love for their ridiculous family the best and had her own ways of showing it.</p><p> </p><p>“And then there were five,” Violet announced, a quiet observation. She turned to the rest of the family, a bright somberness in her disposition. “Well, today is our last day here for a while. I suggest we all take care to embrace the pleasantries of Aubrey Hall while we still can.”</p><p> </p><p>His mother went back into the house, Gregory and Hyacinth following after, the two bickering about their selection for their movie night the entire way.</p><p> </p><p>Upon being left alone with Kate, Anthony turned to her and offered his arm. “Would you care for one more walk around the gardens?”</p><p> </p><p>Her brilliant smile warmed his soul as her arm looped through his. “I’d be delighted.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Taking their time, Anthony and Kate walked through the maze of gardens. They wouldn’t be back at Aubrey Hall until Christmas, when the rest of the family gathered again for the holiday. During the winter the garden would no longer be in full bloom, the couple taking full advantage of the colorful sights and blossoms while they still could.</p><p> </p><p>As they rounded the familiar hedged into the array of tulips, Anthony stopped. He plucked an orange tulip from the bushel.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony,” Kate warned, “you need to stop taking all the tulips. Your mother will one day notice how you have made an incredible dent in her lovely garden.”</p><p> </p><p>He twirled the flower by the stem. “It’s the last day of holiday. She probably won’t walk to this section of the gardens at all. And my dearest friend deserves a flower at least once a day,” he insisted, the tulip held out between them.</p><p> </p><p>Kate eyed the fiery petals, considering the bloom. Her hand hovered over his, ready to take the stem.</p><p> </p><p>Yet she faltered.</p><p> </p><p>“You always say that,” her dark eyes peered up at him, inquisitive, “how I am your ‘dearest friend.’ You even sign all your note cards with the endearment,” she added with a small chuckle. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why are your my dearest friend?” he asked. He felt the reason was rather obvious. Anthony loved her, adored her, wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you use it?” she asked. “Because the term clearly means something more than…more than what it once did.”</p><p> </p><p>Her observation was correct. The term ‘dearest friend’ took on a whole new meaning when he used the endearment for her.</p><p> </p><p>A sudden bashfulness overcame him, Anthony staring hard at the tulip in his hand. The tulip waiting for her.</p><p> </p><p>“When…when I first said it, I meant ‘dearest friend’ in…in the way it sounds. You are the friend I care about the most,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as stilted and boyish as he felt. “But then…then you became so much more, the friend I coveted. And…” The memory of Daphne and her wedding came to the forefront of his mind. “When my sister married Simon, I was ready to give her this big speech about how she’d always have a home with me, how I’d always care for her, that it was normal to be nervous and if she wanted to back out right before walking down the aisle, no one would blame her.” He cleared his throat, feeling it grow thick with emotion. “But then she told me she wasn’t scared or nervous—how could she be when she was marrying her dearest friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony ventured a glance at Kate.</p><p> </p><p>She was fighting a girlish smile, lips chewed together in stubbornness. Her eyes however…Her warm dark eyes felt like home, welcoming him with open arms. “So dearest friend means…?”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you,” he said simply. How easy it was to say the words over and over and mean them every time, without fear. “‘Dearest friend’ means I love you. I love you before and after. That you make me a little less scared of life, because how can I be scared when I have my dearest friend with me?”</p><p> </p><p>Her hands brushed his, taking the tulip from him. “Then I’ll happily be your dearest friend if you are mine.”</p><p> </p><p>Pressing a tender kiss to her temple, Anthony smiled into her dark curls. “I wouldn’t want anything else.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Gregory and Hyacinth fell asleep halfway through <em>The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring</em>. Their determination to watch the entire trilogy in one night fell apart the moment their chatter became less and eyes drooped closed.</p><p> </p><p>Violet assured Anthony to not bother the two. They could sleep downstairs on the couches for the night. The two deserved to embrace what little they had left of their childhood. Newton was far too pleased to pile on the two, snuggling with the youngest Bridgertons for one more night.</p><p> </p><p>As the evening stretched on Anthony, Kate, and Violet abandoned the notion of movie night to clean up and pack up their miscellaneous items before their departure the following morning. Suitcases were packed, old food thrown out, and personal belongings collected.</p><p> </p><p>Their family’s current imprint on Aubrey Hall faded with each family member’s leave. Francesca boots no longer sat in the foyer, ready for her to tug on at a moment’s notice. Eloise’s traveling stacks of books from the den, sunroom, and kitchen were gone along with her. Benedict’s sketches were all gathered and tucked away in one of his portfolios and stashed back into his studio. Colin’s never ending collection of pullover-hoodies, all from various locations he visited in his travels, were packed away in his room, he storing them at the country home due to his lack of home stability.</p><p> </p><p>By the time Anthony was done picking up after himself and the family who remained, Aubrey Hall looked as it always did—a family home trapped in 2004.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you think about changing the furniture in the den?” Anthony asked his mother when she stopped by his study late in the night. “I know there are certain aspects of the house we cannot change because of it’s age and landmarking but…” He shrugged. “I think we can change the furniture in a few of the rooms. Maybe repaint the kitchen too? It’s bit dark in there with those mid-nineties cabinets.”</p><p> </p><p>Sitting in the armchair across from him with her tea in her hand, his mother blinked owlishly at him. “You want to renovate?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s face pinched at the term. “Not renovate, but <em>update</em>. So much of this house has been the same since…”</p><p> </p><p><em>“I know</em>,” Mother said, understanding in her tone. “I never changed anything unless necessary because—well because we were only here two times out of the year. Never saw the reason to and…and I was afraid it’d hurt your feelings. Yours and your siblings if we changed anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think we need the change,” Anthony confessed, pouring himself a glass of brandy. “I think we need to reclaim this house as our home again.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet nodded, pleased. “I agree. I’m glad you see it too.”</p><p> </p><p>She thoughtfully sipped her tea, quirking a curious brow at him.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nodded, allowing her unspoken question to proceed.</p><p> </p><p>“Earlier this evening I was helping Kate go through your bouquets,” her teasing grin nearly made Anthony roll his eyes, “I think it’s sweet you give her flowers. And twenty was—”</p><p> </p><p>“For every day we’ve know each other,” he supplied quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I came to that conclusion pretty quickly,” his mother said. She leaned back more comfortably in the chair, making herself at home. This was the most relaxed he’d seen her in years, his mother for once comfortable and unguarded in his presence. “She wanted to make sure to gather all the note cards before she tossed out the dying flowers.” She paused, lips quirking to side. “You call her your ‘dearest friend’.”</p><p> </p><p>He flushed. “You read the notes?” Did <em>none</em> of the women in his life understand privacy? Daphne, Francesca, Eloise, Hyacinth, Mother, and Kate were all the same in their nosiness; they could not help their curiosities, could they?</p><p> </p><p>“Not on purpose,” his mother assured him, “just at a glance. And I noticed them all addressed the same.” Her smile remained the same, eyes drifting to the portrait of Edmund. “I just find it funny because…because<em> I</em> used to call your father that, ‘my dearest friend.’” Fondness encompassed his mother, she gazing softly at his father. “I remember when Daphne and Simon were getting serious and she grew concerned about where their relationship was going…I told her she had nothing to fear or worry about if Simon was her dearest friend. In fact, I told her she <em>should</em> marry her dearest friend,” she chuckled, giving a small, helpless shrug, “that’s what I did.”</p><p> </p><p>He paused mid-sip. Anthony blinked slowly, the connection finally dawning on him.</p><p> </p><p>The term ‘dearest friend’ did not come from Daphne, but rather from <em>Mother</em> to Daphne. And then from Daphne to <em>him</em>. He never knew his mother used such a term of endearment for his father.</p><p> </p><p>He never imagined or recognized his parents as being friends, only lovers.</p><p> </p><p>But now older, he understood. Mother was Father’s greatest confidant. They’d tease and taunt each other, be each other’s greatest defenders, and admired the other as a person. Their love was built on a true, dear friendship.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s feet moved before his brain could process what he was doing. In a rush, he crouched beside his mother and brought her into a hug.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oh</em>!” She muttered, surprised, but hugged him all the same. He heaved a small sob, muffling it into her shoulder. “Anthony, what’s wrong—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Thank you</em>,” he said, clear despite his overwhelming emotion. “Thank you so much, Mama.”</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t understand what he was thanking her for. He didn’t either, but it felt like the only words to capture the gratitude he felt for her. For her and father’s love.</p><p> </p><p>Her arms tightened a fraction. “It makes me so happy to see you happy,” she confessed. “Please stay happy my boy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to try.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s all I ask. You deserve it.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony never felt more like his mother’s son than in that moment.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anthony frowned down at Newton.</p><p> </p><p>“Take your shit so we can leave.”</p><p> </p><p>The corgi blinked up at him, eyes wide and undaunted by Anthony’s grumblings.</p><p> </p><p>“He cannot go poo when you talk to him like that!” Kate called out from the passenger seat of his car.</p><p> </p><p>They were the last two at Aubrey Hall. His mother and youngest siblings had left an hour earlier, Anthony and Kate meant to follow less than ten minutes later.</p><p> </p><p>However Newton decided to be a menace to society.</p><p> </p><p>He took off, leash and all, when Kate tried to drag him along into the backseat. A chase ensued after the dog, Anthony tackling Newton before he could dive into the lake’s waters. Again.</p><p> </p><p>Once they made it back to the car, Kate insisted they wait for Newton to use the restroom, not keen on the idea of stopping and going while on the road. “He’ll try to take off and go an adventures.”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean <em>run away</em>,” Anthony corrected.</p><p> </p><p>“Go on <em>adventures</em>,” Kate stressed. “He always comes back.”</p><p> </p><p>Except Newton did not want to relieve himself. He plopped his butt down on the ground and stared up at Anthony like he was the universe.</p><p> </p><p>While normally Anthony would gloat about the devil dog adoring him, he wanted to be on the road. He needed a holiday from his holiday. “If he doesn’t go now, we’re leaving without him—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Anthony</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck it,” he grumbled. Anthony picked up Newton and dropped him in the backseat. He stared the dog hard in the eyes. “Don’t you <em>dare</em> do anything unmentionable in this car. Be a good boy.”</p><p> </p><p>“He is a good boy.” Kate leaned over from the front and scratched Newton behind the ears. “He can do this. He did the drive before, remember?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony did remember—Newton slept the entire drive to London. It was the way back he was a terrible passenger. Yapping and barking and panting in Anthony’s ear the entire drive.</p><p> </p><p>“I remember,” Anthony deadpanned.</p><p> </p><p>He shut the backseat door and climbed into the driver’s seat. He buckled up, turned on the car, and began to drive out of Aubrey Hall’s roundabout driveway.</p><p> </p><p>In the rearview mirror he glanced back at the house. A graceful ancient house, but homey. His childhood home, filled with old and new memories.</p><p> </p><p>Saying goodbye was always hard, but this time was different. He wasn’t saying goodbye or stuck longing for the past he missed so dearly, but he looked forward to future. There would be plenty more July holidays and Christmases; he and all his siblings would all be together again. Maybe sooner than before. If the last month taught him anything, his family cared more for each other than any of them led on to believe.</p><p> </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kate’s left hand glisten, her engagement ring and wedding band back on her fourth finger. She swiped the rings off his desk one afternoon and put them back on.</p><p> </p><p>He wanted to propose again, but Kate wouldn’t have it.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Propose to me again in ten years</em>,” she declared when he brought up his intention to do a proper proposal, the right way. “<em>Maybe I’ll feel up to renewing our vows and do the big wedding ceremony everyone wanted.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>He caught her right hand in his and intertwined their fingers.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling the warmth of her palm against his, Anthony could see his entire future out before him. Full of life, laughter, and sweet love—more vivid and rich than he could have ever imagined.</p><p> </p><p>He knew he was in love, and would fall in love with the woman beside him every day. Fall more and more, until he was drowning in her…</p><p> </p><p>Once upon a time such overwhelming feelings would terrify him, but now how could he possibly be nervous or scared when he married his dearest friend?</p><p> </p><p>All he felt with Kate was happiness.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*holds out a box of virtual tissues* Take as many as you need.</p><p>Some Notes and Answers~</p><p>1. Why end it here? Because it felt right. Not everyone got closure! I know. Not everyone got a happy ending! I know. We still have a sequel (which will focus on ALL the romantic relationships, giving each more depth as well as the siblings more time to shine; I left everyone in a place to MOVE FORWARD!) and other fics involved in this universe--WHICH IF YOU HAVENT READ THE LATEST 'LEAVE A VOICEMAIL' UPDATE GO READ IT NOW! </p><p>2. Anthony and Kate's story in this universe IS NOT OVER. Yes, they stay together and they will not ever break-up, they are SO in love. But they are still growing and learning together. Their storyline in the sequel is chaotic, fun, and a little (bitter)sweet. </p><p>3. WE STILL HAVE 2 EPILOGUES!  YES TWO! AS IN THERE ARE STILL TWO CHAPTERS TO THIS!!!! WE ARE JUMPING A BIT INTO THE FUTURE FRIENDS!</p><p>4. ONE OF THE EPILOGUES IS BRIDGERTON FAMILY FIELD DAY! YOU ASKED AND I LISTENED!</p><p>5. Subscribe to me as an author, or follow me on tumblr (intp-slytherin97) and/or twitter (@intpslytherin97) to be up to date on all fics, updates, and whatnot! </p><p>6. Let me know in the comments who's storyline you are looking forward to the most in the sequel! And yes, you can yell at me in the comments too about anything else regarding this chapter, lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Four Years Later...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here is the first epilogue! A sweet one my dear readers, and also the one where I OBLITERATE the next generation of Bridgertons birth order 😂😂😂😂😂 NO ONE HATE ME.</p><p>Slowly responding to comments! I will one day get to all of you! I love responding and reading what you all have to say! </p><p>Warning: Discussion of pregnancy.</p><p>Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kate tightened the blindfold around Anthony’s eyes. <em>Hard</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He winced. “Gentle, dear wife,” he muttered. “No need to be so rough.”</p><p> </p><p>He’d been wearing the damn teal scarf around his eyes for the last two hours, the fabric loosening during the duration of the car ride. Part of Anthony hoped Kate would forget about fixing her make-shift blindfold, but naturally she did not.</p><p> </p><p>Her scoff made him smirk. “Anthony, there is nothing sexual about this situation and—”</p><p> </p><p>Blindly, he wrapped his arms around her waist, the fabric of her floral green dress rousing up at his touch, and smothered his face into her neck. He dragged his lips up the familiar trail from the base of her neck to her earlobe. “I think we can make this very—”</p><p> </p><p>Firm hands planted on shoulders and pushed him back. “Can you at least <em>try</em> to keep your hands to yourself?” she asked. “Or better yet, act surprised when you walk in there? Yeah?” Though he could not see her, Anthony could feel his wife’s stern dark eyes through the blindfold; she meant business. “Don’t do that fake gasp and wide eyes—”</p><p> </p><p>“I have no idea what you are talking about—”</p><p> </p><p>“You know <em>exactly</em> what I’m talking about,” she shot back. “Need I remind you Christmas last year? You broke poor Colin’s heart—”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing about Colin is poor—”</p><p> </p><p>“—because you <em>already knew</em> about the trip he planned for you two!”</p><p> </p><p>He lulled his head in the direction he believed Kate still stood. “It is not my fault my siblings cannot keep a goddamn secret!” he hissed. “And I tried to act surprised—”</p><p> </p><p>“Fake gasping and wide eyes and mouth are <em>not</em> good ways to act surprised. In fact, it’s the worst way to act surprised.” Her left hand intertwined with his, leading him further up the steps of Aubrey Hall.</p><p> </p><p>“And they think I’m suppose to believe we are just taking a weekend get away,” Anthony droned on, Kate carefully guiding him up the steps. “A weekend getaway to <em>Aubrey Hall </em>and everyone miraculously had plans for this weekend and couldn’t celebrate my birthday—”</p><p> </p><p>A slender finger pressed to his lips, silencing him. “I am not saying our family is spectacular at keeping secrets, because they are not,” she deadpanned. Her breath brushed across his chin, he relishing in the feeling. Even after a little over four years of marriage, she thrilled all his senses. “But this is a big birthday—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony groaned, dropping his head on her shoulder. “I did not want to celebrate—”</p><p> </p><p>Her cool hands grasped his face, pulling him up right to look at her despite his lack of vision at the moment. “We are going to celebrate your fortieth birthday whether you like it or not,” she told him. The pads of her thumbs brushed along his cheekbones, Anthony leaning into her caress. “Our family loves you, I love you, and we want to celebrate and throw you a silly surprise party because you fucking deserve it.”</p><p> </p><p>Grasping her left hand, he pressed a firm kiss to her wrist. He sighed against her. “When you put it that way…I guess I can act surprised when I walk in.”</p><p> </p><p>She kissed his cheek before pulling away. “Thank you!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate led him up the remained of the steps and opened the front door of Aubrey Hall.</p><p> </p><p>Forced stillness and hurried, quiet hushes sounded off as they entered the ancestral home. Feet skittered about. Kate’s careful hands guided him towards the back of the house, towards the sunroom.</p><p> </p><p>More frantic feet shuffled by.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony sent Kate a dubious, unsurprised glance over his shoulder. Well…as much of a dubious, unsurprised glance as he could achieve with the damn scarf over his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“We are at the step down,” Kate murmured into his ear, guiding him down the two step drop into the sunroom. She pushed him along a little further until he was at the head of the room.</p><p> </p><p>Hushes and bodies bumping into furniture echoed in the room.</p><p> </p><p>Then in a flash, his world was brought back to life—Kate ripped the scarf off.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Surprise</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Streamers flew in the air and bright confetti thrusted in his face in a flourish. Standing all together in the sunroom were his siblings and their partners and nephews and nieces and his mother, each beaming with utter excitement.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stood still for a moment—</p><p> </p><p>Then remembered he was supposed to act surprised.</p><p> </p><p>He gasped. Loud. Eyes wide and jaw dropping. “Wow! I—I am <em>surprised</em>!” He nodded largely, arms out in ‘astonishment’. “So surprised—”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise’s groan broke through, she chucking her paper party horn at him. “Damn it! He fucking knew!”</p><p> </p><p>All excited pretenses shattered from the group, mumbles and groans following soon after.</p><p> </p><p>“You had one job, Kate!” Colin cried out. “One job!”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t me!” she shot back. “I wasn’t the one who told him!”</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately no one believed her.</p><p> </p><p>Murmurs of disagreement came from several of the siblings, Kate scowling. His wife rarely kept anything from him, it a miracle she kept the surprise party from Anthony for so long. Sensing the annoyance and arguments about to ensue amongst the siblings Benedict ventured off to the stereo system and started playing music.</p><p> </p><p>The sound of music dissuade any further uproar, the party jumping into full swing as immediate family came up to hug him and wish happy birthday.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne was first to waddle up to him, pushing their fellow sisters and brothers out of the way. Pregnant again, with her and Simon’s third child, no bothered to be too far in her path.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh happy birthday,” she cheered, throwing her arms around him. “I love you so much, brother!” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, absolutely glowing in delight. “And for the record, I had a feeling you’d find out about the party before you got here. Rumor has it one of the children can easily be bribed with sweets…” Her eyes shifted to her sweet little Amelia, the girl already nibbling on a chocolate biscuit. Upon seeing her mother’s stare, the girl ducked under the refreshment able in a gaggle of giggles.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony feigned confusion. “My niece Amelia would <em>never</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne waved him off, releasing her iron hold on him. “I don’t want to hear it! Just enjoy the party, Mother and I did put a lot of work into it!” She waddled her way off, joining Simon, who held their toddler, Belinda in a his arms. His brother-in-law nodded to him in greeting; they saw each other nearly every day, taking lunch together in the office. Later they’d chat.</p><p> </p><p>Colin and Penelope were quick to wrap him in their own hugs soon after, much to Anthony’s genuine surprise. “I didn’t think you two would actually make it,” he confessed. “Aren’t you supposed to be on your extended, month long honeymoon in Greece?” An extended honeymoon, in the sense, Colin would be writing an article about the trip for the travel magazine.</p><p> </p><p>“We cut it short,” Colin shrugged, dramatically, “for some idiot’s fortieth birthday party—”</p><p> </p><p>“We always planned on three weeks,” Penelope cut in, fondly rolling her eyes at her husband. “We just said four to hopefully throw you off our scent.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well I am happy to see you two,” Anthony confessed, bringing them both in another hug. “The office is a little too quiet without Colin running around and our best editor keeping him in line,” he teased, grinning at his brother and sister-in-law.</p><p> </p><p>Just as Penelope was about to speak, Eloise came barreling over to him, throwing an around his neck. “You are an asshole! You cannot even act damn surprised at your own fucking surprise party!” She brought him into a headlock, and ruffled up his hair.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony shook her off as best he could. “Hey—it took time to get my hair to look nice—"</p><p> </p><p>“Did Kate have to do it for you?” Eloise taunted, releasing him with a small shove.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t answer.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise laughed, head thrown back. “You’d be lost without her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Anthony nodded, peeking over to where his wife disappeared. She stood with Lucy, Gregory’s wife, by the refreshment table. The two were in deep conversation, as they always found themselves to be around each other. His wife's curls bouncing in time as she spoke passionately. “I would be lost without Kate.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Daphne saddle up beside Kate, looping their arms together, and pressing to her side like a leech. She absolutely vibrated in giddiness.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re pregnant.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate choked on her lemonade.</p><p> </p><p>To her right, Lucy squeaked into her canapé, before whirling around to grab another one. She shoved both into her mouth and then filled a little plate with three more. She was ready watch the show, learning rather quickly over the last few years how quickly a simple conversation could spiral into chaos in the Bridgerton family.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Kate regained her composure, eyeing her sister-in-law warily. “Daphne, I don’t know where you got that idea—"</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve known for at least two weeks,” Daphne chimed in, keeping her voice low for no one else but the three women to hear. “And I know it has been two weeks because last weekend when you and Anthony came over for dinner and when Simon offered you wine—your favorite wine—you <em>declined</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I had an upset stomach and didn’t want alcohol to wreck more havoc on my gut,” Kate explained calmly. Better to be calm than give into Daphne’s demanding dramatics.</p><p> </p><p>“But today you are drinking lemonade,” Daphne nodded to the little glass cup in Kate’s right hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I like lemonade,” Kate answered simply. She took a long sip to further prove her point.</p><p> </p><p>“But see, Mother and I made sure to include everyone’s favorite beverages and look—” she nodded to portable bar in the corner of the room, Gregory looking beyond bored behind the counter. “Including yours. Which sits untouched.”</p><p> </p><p>“The party has barely started—”</p><p> </p><p>“You <em>are</em> pregnant Katherine Bridgerton. You are going to have a baby and I am going to prove it,” Daphne declared, head held up high in defiance. Releasing her hold on Kate, the woman waddled away back into the fray of the party.</p><p> </p><p>Lucy snorted into her food. “Daphne can be pretty scary when she’s convinced she’s right.” She chewed thoughtfully on her food. “I can’t believe she thinks you’re pregnant.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I am.”</p><p> </p><p>Wide chestnut eyes latched on to her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate downed the rest of lemonade and set the empty glass back on the table. “But Daphne can’t know. Because once Daphne knows for sure, then Eloise knows. And if Eloise knows then Francesca and Benedict know. And once one of those two know, then it’s endgame because Colin will find out and if Colin finds out then he wins the betting pool they think Anthony and I <em>don’t </em>know about and he will not be able to contain himself from announcing it to the rest of the house.” She swiped a canapé from Lucy’s plate, eating the entire piece in one bite. “And see none of them can find out because I haven’t told Anthony and I was <em>planning</em> on telling him tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>Lucy cringed, looking over Kate’s shoulder. “Then maybe you should find him and tell him now because Daphne is talking to Eloise—”</p><p> </p><p>Kate whipped around to find the two staring at her, Daphne in smug delight and Eloise in jaw dropping shock. Upon seeing her, the two hurried off to Benedict and Ethan. Oh no, this was not good.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” Kate cursed. Leave it to a Bridgerton to be unable to keep a secret. Even an unconfirmed secret. “Excuse me, Luce, I have some women to kill.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Wow, <em>forty</em>,” his mother mused, taking a small sip of her wine. “You must feel pretty good about it right?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony considered the question carefully. It was nice to be older than thirty-nine. To be done with his thirties. To have lived longer than his father. <em>A full year longer</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He conquered the unimaginable.</p><p> </p><p>“I do,” he answered truthfully. He’d been better about his ‘mortality’ issue for some time; therapy, annual physicals, and Kate assuring him and comforting him through all his panicked episodes. He was okay, besides the bees. He still had a fear of those pesky insects, and probably would for his entire life. “Never thought…never thought I would be here.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet’s warm hand on his shoulder consoled him, she understanding. “I’m glad. You should celebrate.”</p><p> </p><p>While he’d never been one to open up to his mother in the past, over the last few years they’d grown closer, bonding as mother and son again, but also as <em>friends</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A childish part of him wanted to scoff and grunt at the thought of being friends with one’s mother, yet the rational, emotionally mature part in him cherished the relationship.</p><p> </p><p>“Now I hate to be the person to ask this,” Mother began, a small wince in her tone, “but since you now forty, physically past your father’s age…” A teasing twinkle shined in her eyes. “Can I expect some grandchildren in near future?”</p><p> </p><p>“You have grandchildren,” Anthony nodded to where Amelia had been hiding under the refreshment table, his wife and Lucy none-the-wiser to the young girl listening to their conversation. “Amelia, Belinda, Baby Basset Number Three, Amanda, Oliver,” he paused, taking a breath, “Luce and Greg are expecting their first one too, and then Benedict and Ethan’s adoption papers went through so…” He shrugged, a joking smirk on his lips. “Mother, you have grandchildren.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyebrows shot up, an exasperated smile sent his way. “Anthony, you know what I mean. Are you and Kate planning for children?”</p><p> </p><p>He opened, then closed his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Short answer: Yes.</p><p> </p><p>Long answer: Turns out getting pregnant sometimes took time.</p><p> </p><p>Then again….he and Kate weren’t <em>trying</em> per say. They fell into a ‘whatever happens, happens’ mindset. He wanted children, she wanted children—they knew this about each other early on in their acquaintance—but they also liked their current life. He liked whisking her away for a weekend getaway without worrying about children and babysitters. She liked going out on date nights with him, the two meeting up right after work and stopping at a new restaurant. He liked having his time off for her, his world, and then some for his family. Despite his best efforts, he was still heavily involved in all his siblings lives, but with more ‘healthy boundaries’ as his therapist would say.</p><p> </p><p>In a way…he already <em>did</em> the parenting thing, to an extent. He helped raised his youngest siblings—Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, Hyacinth…</p><p> </p><p>But he knew it would be different with his own children. With Kate.</p><p> </p><p>He wanted children, <em>he really did</em>, but…</p><p> </p><p>“I’d be content without children,” he confessed, hiding his disappointment well. “I’d be content with it just being me and Kate for the rest of our lives.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you don’t want that,” his mother declared, “I can see it in your eyes. You don’t. Not to mention, you must be going <em>a little</em> stir-crazy since Hyacinth moved out last spring.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh. Right. <em>That</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Hyacinth had lived with him and Kate for the majority of her university years. Initially a chaotic and rather turbulent time for all of them (especially considering she wasn’t the only one living with them at the time) however they all soon found their footing with the living arrangement.</p><p> </p><p>Then Hyacinth decided to move.</p><p> </p><p>To California.</p><p> </p><p>With Gareth.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony still hadn’t quite forgiven her for the rash (completely <em>not</em> rash—she’d been dating the poor sod for nearly three years) decision to up and leave the country. But she was in love and didn’t want to continue the long distance with Gareth any longer. The only positive was the fact she planned to continue her education and they planned to move back to London once both were ready to settle down.</p><p> </p><p>The thought eased Anthony. A little. Not a lot. But enough.</p><p> </p><p>Enough for him to not call Hyacinth every day and wait for their weekly Zoom calls on Sunday nights.</p><p> </p><p>Was it so wrong to want his entire family within arms reach for the majority of the year?</p><p> </p><p>His mother was right. He did go a little stir-crazy. Kate was no better. The house was too quiet now.</p><p> </p><p>“Out of all my children, I always believed you’d be the best parent.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony chuckled low at the kind remark. “Because I’ve been doing it for so long?” he quipped.</p><p> </p><p>Mother frowned, disappointed, yet her gaze remained warm. “I thought this before your father’s passing. You were always so kind and caring towards your siblings. And how you adored your father,” she sighed at the long, distant memories. “All I want is for your son to look at you the way you looked at him.”</p><p> </p><p>His throat thickened. Anthony cleared his throat. “It’s my birthday. You cannot make me cry. Or get emotional, damn it,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m your mother,” she reminded him with a teary smile. “It’s my job.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head, urging the sudden pang behind his eyes away. He wasn’t going to shed a tear over his lack of children in front of all his family. No—he didn’t need any of his siblings nosiness ruining the evening.</p><p> </p><p>“Mother, I do want—”</p><p> </p><p>A small tug on his trousers interrupted him.</p><p> </p><p>Peering up at him with bright, inquisitive eyes was his niece Amelia.</p><p> </p><p>He crouched down beside without a second thought. “Hello my sweet, what is it you need?”</p><p> </p><p>The three year old wrapped her arms around his neck. “<em>Up</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony lifted her into his arms, knowing the demand well. Amelia loved to be carried by all her uncles, but she had a special attachment to Anthony. Daphne once said it was because Amelia believed he gave the best hugs. He proudly boasted about this quality to Kate for a week. Anthony liked to believe his and Amelia’s connect was due to an inherent eldest sibling bond, his niece knowing he was like her and she like him, even at the age of three, almost four.</p><p> </p><p>Little hands cupped his right ear, a determined pinch in her brow. “<em>I got secret.” </em>Amelia’s raspy whisper tickled him, Anthony chuckling under his breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh really?” he asked, eyebrows raised exaggeratedly. “Care to share with Uncle?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia nodded, corkscrew curls bouncing left and right. She pressed her mouth to her cupped hands again. “<em>Auntie have baby</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>She giggled in fiendish delight, hands clapping over her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony glanced over to where Lucy stood by herself at the refreshment table, her round belly visible and proud, she resting her small plate on the top curve.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah…” he drawled out, eyes narrowing playfully on his niece. “But I don’t know if Aunt Lucy’s baby is really a secret, ‘Milia”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia shook her head, lips pursed down, undeniably frustrated with him. “<em>Auntie</em>!” she cried out.</p><p> </p><p>From a group of chatting guests, Kate’s head popped up at the name. She raised an eyebrow at him and Amelia, waving kindly at their niece.</p><p> </p><p>Oh god, he was completely <em>stupid</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia only called Kate her ‘Auntie,’ at his wife’s insistence. “<em>None of that ‘Aunt’ business; I’m an </em>Auntie<em>. This is a moment of pride for me, thank you very much</em>. <em>I have officially reached my full form as a Desi woman.”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Auntie is not having a baby,” Anthony corrected, mindful to be gentle with his niece. He didn’t want to break her heart over the matter; she had asked him on multiple occasions for a cousin because she wasn’t overly fond of Belinda or the new baby on the way.</p><p> </p><p>His niece pouted, flustered. “<em>Auntie have baby</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony blanched.</p><p> </p><p>A few stunned glances from those nearby, Michael and Phillip, were sent his way. His mother was no help from their prying eyes, Violet poorly concealing her laughter behind her glass.</p><p> </p><p>“You and Kate have something you want to share with the family?” Michael joked.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Anthony huffed, adjusting a squirming Amelia in his arms. His niece kicked him right below the ribs. He winced. “Alright, down you go.”</p><p> </p><p>Glaring at him, the girl marched up to Michael and held her arms out. “Uncle Michael, up!” The young man lifted the girl into his arms. Together they stuck their tongues out to Anthony.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Very mature,” he intoned, unamused by his sister’s fiancé (technically Michael was his friend—arguably one of his best friends— but in light of the conversation, he’d been demoted to merely a <em>fiancé</em>).</p><p> </p><p>Phillip however…</p><p> </p><p>“Are you and Kate expecting?” his other sister’s partner asked, thoroughly surprised. “Because that is…”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What</em>?” Anthony asked, picking up his forgotten drink from the nearby table. “Consider your next words carefully, Crane.”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip, as always, was unafraid of Anthony and spoke his mind. “Unexpected. I kind of don’t really see you and Kate as parents—well, parents with babies,” he said with a half shrug. “I guess in my mind you two already have sort of done the parenting thing? You kind of parent everyone,” he glanced at Violet, apologetic, “no offense, Violet. You are a fantastic mother, but Anthony and Kate, they…” He tilted his head side to side, trying to find the right word.</p><p> </p><p>“Mother-hen, micro-manage, can be overbearing?” Violet finished, smirking in agreement. “I know.”</p><p> </p><p>Huffing, Anthony finished his drink. “I am right here, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh they know,” Michael quipped, cheeky.</p><p> </p><p>“Hell, even I feel like you parent me from time to time,” Phillip confessed. “I appreciate it,” he added as an afterthought. “But still, it’s hard for me to picture.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not for me it isn’t,” Michael chimed in. Amelia rested her head on his shoulder, Michael swaying from side to side as her eyes began to close. “Anthony would be a great dad and Kate would be the best mother to ever exist,” he said so earnest and plain, as if he could not imagine the two being anything but wonderful parents. “Any kid would be lucky to have you as a parent,” Michael told Anthony, firm and direct.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was oddly touched by the sentiment; Michael often joked, very tongue-in-cheek, but he had his moments of sever honesty that knocked the wind out of the recipient.</p><p> </p><p>“See? I’m not the only one who thinks it,” his mother nudged him lightly.</p><p> </p><p>“It’ll happen when it happens,” Anthony finally said, uncomfortable with their compliments and knowing stares.</p><p> </p><p>“Kate <em>does</em> have a glow to her…” his mother hummed.</p><p> </p><p>That comment was enough for Anthony pick up his drink and march over to the bar without further excuse.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Pushing past relatives and guests, Kate made her way to the four—Daphne, Eloise, Benedict, and Ethan— all her in-laws falling silent as she joined their fold. Daphne and Eloise deftly avoided her gaze.</p><p> </p><p>“I am not pregnant,” she told them blankly.</p><p> </p><p>Ethan and Benedict shared a glance, clearly not believing her.</p><p> </p><p>“You do have a glow to you, Katie,” Ethan praised.</p><p> </p><p>“She does,” Benedict tacked on without missing a beat. “Warm and bright, very uh, <em>motherly</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise smacked his chest with the back of her hand. “We weren’t talk about you,” she said, in horrible nonchalance. Not even an infant would believe her lie. “Like…<em>at all</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>“Please stop,” Benedict ground out upon seeing Kate’s deadpanned expression. “She’s not buying it at all, El.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not,” Kate stressed again. She turned to Daphne, imploring and disappointed. “Stop telling people I am pregnant. You don’t have any proof besides your own assumptions.”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne rolled her eyes with a disbelieving grin. “My knowledge is based on evidence. Evidence I have witness with my own two eyes. Both of which have perfect vision, mind you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, please slip in how you are one of the glorious Bridgertons who does not need glasses of any kind,” Eloise droned. She’d been prescribed glasses a few years back and had never let the matter go, especially since only she, Francesca, and Anthony lacked perfect vision, unlike the rest of their siblings.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise sipped her beer, her own eyes dropping down to Kate’s abdomen then up to her breasts. “I mean…I guess I see it there. Your chest does look—”</p><p> </p><p>Kate scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I will not be scrutinized! I’m not pregnant,” she hissed, not caring if she sounded hostile in the slightest. Sometimes a Bridgerton needed the fear of God put in them to shut their damn mouths.</p><p> </p><p>All four shared knowing glances.</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever you say dear Katherine.” Benedict’s charm softened the air, Kate dropping her arms back to her side. However her pursed-scrunched lips remained as well as her chilling glare.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you all, but can you all keep your mouth’s shut on this?” she asked attempting to regain her cool. Maybe it would be best if she threw them a bone, or at the least guilt them into silence. “We haven’t really told anyone but…we are sort of trying—” All four sets of eyes widened, all jokes forgotten and set aside. “—and I don’t want to get his hopes up with your gibbering and jabbering.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t you say so—”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god, Anthony <em>wants</em> kids?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so sorry we teased—”</p><p> </p><p>“Guess Colin’s gonna lose, eh?” Eloise’s remark was met with annoyed stares. “What? Like Kate and Anthony don’t know about the bet.”</p><p> </p><p>“We know,” Kate supplied, earning several groans from the group. “We’ve known for a while. Hyacinth told us before she left.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, Hyacinth,” Daphne growled. “It would be her to spill the beans!”</p><p> </p><p>“Probably figured she wouldn’t be here to see it all happen so…” Benedict didn’t look surprised, accepting of the turn of events. “I’m not surprised. Youngest sister causing havoc even an ocean away. Classic Hyacinth.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate knew her excuse would only placid her in-laws for a little while. Daphne would still claim she thought Baby Bridgerton was on the way—which they were—but her sister-in-law did not need to know yet. Anthony needed to know before anyone else; he needed to know first.</p><p> </p><p>Carefully extracting herself from the conversation, Kate made her way to her husband, who taken refuge at the bar. Gregory, the volunteered barkeep of the night, perked at the sight of her. “My favorite sister-in-law,” he cheered in greeting.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile her husband…</p><p> </p><p>Anthony slammed the shot glass on the counter. “<em>Another</em>,” he ordered. He coughed into his shoulder, no longer accustom to the sensation of knocking back alcohol. He leisurely drank now, his partying days and pub crawls <em>long</em> behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Gregory sent Kate a worried glance.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay there?” Kate asked. She bumped her shoulder with his and crossed her arms atop the counter. “Did someone say you are over the hill? Because they’re wrong—you’ve got another ten years before that happens, my love.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony dropped his arms on the counter as well, matching her pose. His head lulled to his right, meeting her gaze with a roguish smirk on his lips. “You’d probably find me just as devilishly handsome once I am over the hill.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps even more so,” she teased, half leaning to bump her nose with his. “I look forward to your silver fox era.”</p><p> </p><p>He snorted, dropping his head down as he convulsed with laughter. “I sometimes get the feeling you only married me for my gray hair and ‘grandpa sweaters’.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I did,” she shrugged. “What about it?”</p><p> </p><p>Just as he opened his mouth to give a smart remark back, Gregory slid a glass of her favorite wine in front of her.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no thank you.” Kate pushed the glass back towards her brother-in-law. “I’m not drinking tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>Or <em>any</em> night for the next seven to six months.</p><p> </p><p>She felt Anthony’s eyes on her. Turning back to him, she found his eyebrows pinched tight together, a stillness surrounding him from the inside out.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he said, quiet and mindful of their company. “Not drinking.”</p><p> </p><p>She sighed, focusing on the sheen of the counter top. Her fingers traced the woodgrains of the counter. “Don’t feel like it—”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you pregnant?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate paused.</p><p> </p><p>Eyes fluttering shut, she considered her options. This wasn’t how she wanted to tell him but when had anything in their life gone according to plan?</p><p> </p><p>She turned to him fully, eyes open and demanding. “If I was?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d kiss you senseless,” came his immediate answer.</p><p> </p><p>“And if I wasn’t?” she asked, sliding closer to him until they were chest to chest.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d still kiss you senseless,” he breathed out, a giddy smile quirking at the corner of his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Kate didn’t say anything.</p><p> </p><p>Smirking she turned to Gregory, who’d been pretending he hadn’t been listening to the entire conversation, he twiddling his thumbs. “Can I have a water please?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, hurrying to fulfill her request.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s giddiness had overtaken his entire being, eyes radiating in unsurmountable joy. “Kate…” he began, forehead bumping into hers. “Katie-Kate…” A sing-y-song tune lingered in his words, pressing and pleading for an answer he already knew deep inside him. His fingers danced up her arm until both hands cupped her face, a gentle adoration in his touch. “My Kate, are we having a baby?”</p><p> </p><p>She could not contain herself any longer. “Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>In all her life she’d never seen a man smile with utter, sweet felicity.</p><p> </p><p>A rapturous laugh bubbled from him. “I’m going to be a dad?” he asked, breathless. “And you a mum?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate nodded with her own blossoming smile, her husband’s joy infectious. “Yes, yes. We are having a baby.”</p><p> </p><p>His lips met hers in an instant, making due diligence to kiss her senseless. Anthony <em>always</em> followed through on his promises, this one no different. She clutched feverishly at the lapels of his jacket, pressing herself to him, wanting to feel every part of him and never stop. Hands roamed up into her hair, Anthony’s ridiculous, blissful laughter slipping through his lips between kisses.</p><p> </p><p>He was happy, oh so happy. And she was too. They both wanted this, the timing finally right.</p><p> </p><p>Several groans of disgust echoed across the party, Anthony and Kate breaking apart a moment later.</p><p> </p><p>“Really? Making-out at your own birthday party?” Eloise called out, hand on her hip. “At you’re <em>fortieth</em> birthday party? <em>Really</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony let the comment roll of his back, grinning like a fool. “Don’t care. Don’t give a shit, El because I’m going to be a dad!” he declared proudly.</p><p> </p><p>That…was also not how Kate wanted to announce their pregnancy, but what was a Bridgerton party without a little drama or scandal? Or in this case, exciting news?</p><p> </p><p>Delightful cheers and murmurs of excitement came from the party, congratulations called out amongst them. Kate flushed at the attention, but soon forgot about all the eyes on her once her husband faced her again, his smile filling her with comfort and warmth.</p><p> </p><p>Through the congratulations thrown their way another series of groans sounded off from Anthony’s siblings, this time more angry than annoyed.</p><p> </p><p>Well, all the siblings except for one…</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Colin pumped his fist in the air. “For once I <em>finally</em> win a Kate and Anthony wager! Yes, yes, yes, yes!” He spun around to each of his siblings, getting into their faces, pompously parading his victory. “I said Kate would be expecting by his fortieth and I was <em>right</em>!” His whoop echoed in the sunroom, family members sending him glares and scowls as he continued to cheer at his win. “Someone call Hyacinth and let her know she lost! Because I won!”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise raised an eyebrow, the grip on her beer deadly. She clucked her tongue. “Are you done now?”</p><p> </p><p>Colin caught his breath and dusted off his jacket, pleased with himself. “Yes.” He nodded once. “I am.” He smiled brightly at Kate and Anthony. “Congrats, can’t wait to meet Baby Bridgerton!”</p><p> </p><p>Giggles erupted from a few of the distant relatives, followed by Amelia clapping loudly at the scene. Benedict coughed. “Uh, let’s give the expecting couple privacy eh? Everyone go back to your business!” he called out, voice bombing in the sunroom.</p><p> </p><p>Guests did not need to be told twice, resuming their conversations and idle chatter upon request.</p><p> </p><p>Soon Anthony and Kate were flooded by his immediate family.</p><p> </p><p>“You couldn’t have waited another month or two?” Eloise groaned, reaching them first. She smacked Anthony’s shoulder in a fluster. “I was counting on birthday sex being the moment of conception!”</p><p> </p><p>“I was right, I was right, and you are a liar Katherine Bridgerton!” Daphne cried out, pushing her way through for a hug. “Oh my goodness—three women in the family pregnant at the same time!” She gasped, Kate unsure if her sister-in-law was happy or horrified by the revelation. Daphne craned her neck up, scanning the room. “I need to find Lucy! We need to see about baby registries and…” Her words were drowned out as she hurried off to find Lucy, Francesca taking her place in the Bridgerton mosh-pit of hugs.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so excited for you two,” she murmured in the joint hug. “I really am.” She pulled away, genuine glee in her eyes. Not the muted, forced happiness she projected upon hearing the news about Daphne or Lucy’s pregnancy.</p><p> </p><p>Kate wanted to cry in relief; more than once she thought of how Franny would react to the news. She pulled Francesca into another hug. “Thanks,” she mumbled into her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“There is no one else I’d want to be parents than you two,” Francesca told her, giving a quick squeeze of her arms as she released her hold. “I’m going to need to start looking at yarn and consider patterns for his blanket. Only the best for baby Edmund.”</p><p> </p><p>Both Anthony and Kate were hasty to wave off the notion. “I’m only a few months along—”</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t even know if were having a boy or a girl,” Anthony added.</p><p> </p><p>“Baby Edmund,” Francesca said, a strong claim in her belief. There was no room for argument with her. “Mark my words.”</p><p> </p><p>She slipped out of the group before either Kate or Anthony could say otherwise.</p><p> </p><p>The brothers were no better, all three boasting with praise for Kate and jabs at Anthony. As they always did. While Anthony would grumble and quip back at their antics, he laughed—fully belly laugh—and smiled until his face hurt, joking along with his siblings.</p><p> </p><p>Kate knew he wanted to be a father, <em>so bad</em>, hiding his longing for a family as best he could, perhaps hoping she wouldn’t notice the slight disappointment in his eyes each time she held up a negative test. She did not realize the massive, uncontainable happiness this would bring him until now.</p><p> </p><p>When Violet finally reached them, she was crying. “God, these things make me emotional,” she said, waving off their concerned looks. “Trust me, these are happy tears. Really happy.” She wiped under her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I actually want to give you two something—if you want to follow me back into the main house.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, absolutely,” Anthony was quick to agree, following his mother.</p><p> </p><p>His hand remained tight in Kate’s, she holding back with just as much ferocity.</p><p> </p><p>Violet led them out of the sunroom and up towards her bedroom on the second floor, mostly silent except for her few lingering sniffles. She stopped them right outside the door. “Give me second—I’ll go grab it for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Rustling followed by drawers opening and closing came from the other side of the door, Kate and Anthony sending each other curious glances after his mother was gone for more than a moment. Though neither would go after her—if Violet stopped them outside her room, that must have been for a reason or at the very least she wanting her privacy. Most of the house was staying the night after the party, Kate unsurprised if the room was thoroughly lived in since the matriarch had taken to arriving sooner for party prep.</p><p> </p><p>Violet came back minutes later, a slim, leather bound and clasped journal in her hand. “Um,” she cleared her throat, grasping the journal tighter, “this was your father’s, Anthony. You know he was an avid writer and journal keeper. I swear that man went through thousands of journals in his short life.” Her fondness for her husband never faded, only growing warmer with time. “But he kept a journal for each of my pregnancies,” she said with a broken chuckle. “I found it so odd yet sweet, him wanting to recount the time, but now…” She gaze a shaky exhale, but beamed at Anthony, her body undoubtedly conflicting with a series of emotions. “But now I cherish all he wrote. Especially these. But I think they are better in yours and your siblings hands. A piece of your father during…during such a wonderful and changing time. I gave Daphne hers when she was expecting Amelia, so now I get to give you yours.”</p><p> </p><p>She held out the journal.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stared blankly at the offering, all his exuberance faded.</p><p> </p><p>He was floored. Perhaps not expecting such a… a simple yet profound gift on his birthday.</p><p> </p><p>Just as Kate thought he’d shut down and walk away, Anthony accepted the journal.</p><p> </p><p>A firm, sure grasp. Unafraid to read his father’s words. Accepting of the offering from his mother.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” he croaked out. He blinked, not a tear sheading. Licking his lips, he composed himself as best he could and gave his mother a grateful smile. “Thank you so much.”</p><p> </p><p>Violet relaxed at his words. She stepped up to him, wrapping her son in a light hug. “I’m so happy. You will be an amazing. Both of you will be amazing,” she added, reaching a hand of Kate. She squeezed her hand, showing her love in the gesture.</p><p> </p><p>Upon releasing both, Violet made haste to excuse herself back to the party. As she left, Kate caught her smiling at them over her shoulder as she left the second floor. Her heart swelled at Violet’s unconditional love.</p><p> </p><p>A loud, long exhale escaped Anthony the moment they were alone. “Well this has been an eventful fortieth birthday and I think I want to go to bed already.” He leaned his back against the closest wall, sagging in exhaustion. He tucked the journal into his inner pocket, slightly bending the book to fit.</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s indignant scoff echoed through the hall. Her hands flew in the air and rested on her hips, she prepared to scold her husband and dragging him back to party if need be. “You cannot go to bed yet! There is a party downstairs all for you! We have guests and family here, several from out of town! How do you think they will react when they realize the man of honor has decided to ditch his own birthday party to go to sleep?”</p><p> </p><p>“Who says I’m going to sleep?” A sinful smirk was sent her way. Anthony pushed himself off his slump against the wall and moseyed his way over to her. He tilted her chin up, his dark, desiring eyes meeting hers with full need. “I have no intention of going to sleep.” Leaning forward, he bypassed her lips in favor for her cheek, then under her jaw, before brushing along her ear. Involuntarily, her eyes fluttered shut, Kate lulled by his caress. “I don’t think anyone would mind if I slipped away for the night to ravish my beautiful wife, who is carrying my child—” A shiver ran down her spine, Kate’s insides melting as the heat of longing blossomed within her. “—I don’t think anyone would care at all.” His mouth captured hers, his initial trail long forgotten in haste to claim her, taste her, and love her.</p><p> </p><p>Kate, for an instant, allowed herself to be held and cherished in her husbands arms.</p><p> </p><p>Then broke away two seconds later.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” she ordered.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony began to lean in again, confident in his ways of persuasion.</p><p> </p><p>Yet, all knew Kate was the stronger and more resilient of the two.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” she declared again, a singular finger pressed to his insistent lips. “No, Anthony. We are going to go back down and enjoy the rest of the party—”</p><p> </p><p>“Give me ten minutes,” he pressed, dropping his lips down to her neck.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony—”</p><p> </p><p>“Give me less. Give me half that,” he said, grinning devilishly, hot hands running down from her waist, to her hips, sliding up the hem of her dress. “Give me even less than <em>that</em>. I like a challenge—” He smirked against her mouth, knowing he was winning. And Kate, knowing she was losing, pulled him into a quick, heated kiss.</p><p> </p><p>Lips only a fraction away, she breathed out—“You get ten minutes and we are going ba—<em>ack</em>! Anthony!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony swept Kate off her feet, carrying her to their bedroom down the hall. Their boisterous laughter filled the house, Kate’s full cackles swirling in tandem with Anthony’s boyish chuckles. All joyous sounds were soon muffled by the slam of a bedroom door.</p><p> </p><p>Neither made it back to the party that night.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>THEY ARE HAVING A BABY *sobs*</p><p>Some Notes~ </p><p>1. I am SOOOOOO curious to see what y'all caught in the jump forward. Because some characters got MARRIED (looking at you Pen and Colin!) and others have YET to get married (looking at you Eloise and Phillip!) and other's have children or are going to have children (UMMMM Gregory and Lucy! DAPHNE AND SIMON AGAIN!).</p><p>2. Why did I decide Anthony would not become a father until his forties? Because for this version of Anthony it made sense. He has some things to work through (which we will get more of in subsequent fics), and I believe the fact he and Kate kind of did a lot of their relationship out of order it was important to these version of the characters to wait to have children.</p><p>3. LOTS OF LITTLE HINTS AND EASTER EGGS OF WHERE WE ARE HEADING WERE DROPPED. FUN TIMES :D</p><p>4. HYACINTH IS IN THE STATES AND WITH GARETH. Told y'all they're endgame. Remember that 👀</p><p>5. Yeah, those journals might make another appearance. I have it in my head Edmund was a writer at heart, always writing about anything and everything ❤</p><p>6. NEXT AND FINAL CHAPTER OF THIS FIC WIL BE *drum roll* A FUTURE BRIDGERTON FAMILY FIELD DAY!!!</p><p>7. Reminder if you want to be up to date on the fics in this universe and whatnot, subscribe to me as an author here on AO3, and follow me on tumblr (intp-slytherin97) and/or twitter (@intpslytherin97)!</p><p>Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Love discussing the fic with all of y'all!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. The Tenth Annual Bridgerton Family Field Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we are, the last chapter.</p><p>Typos will be fixed.</p><p>Warning: Vague depictions of pregnancy and broken bones.</p><p>Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You see this mallet?” Anthony held the black croquet mallet before his son, Edmund. The five year old nodded, chestnut curls flopping into his face. “You need to crawl under there—” He pointed to the cleared opening under the gazebo. “—and hide it for Papa.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony nearly groaned at the question. Everything with Edmund these days was followed by a ‘<em>why</em>.’ He loved how his son was inquisitive and whip smart, but sometimes Anthony did not feel like explaining himself. He especially did not feel like explaining why he and his wife participated in their competitive traditions.</p><p> </p><p>“Because…Papa needs to hide the mallet before Mama can find it,” he said, careful of his wording. He didn’t want his son to believe hiding things from his mother was allowed; it wasn’t in the slightest.</p><p> </p><p>“But isn’t hiding like lying?”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Anthony winced. “Sort of—we aren’t lying to Mama,” he stressed. “We are merely hiding the mallet because it is a game Mama and Papa play. We hide the mallet every year and it’s Papa’s turn to hide the mallet from Mama.” Under his son’s dubious gaze, Anthony huffed and stood up straight. “Mama knows I’m going to hide the mallet, Ed! She’ll be looking for it.”</p><p> </p><p>Edmund’s dark brown eyes stared up at Anthony in confused wonder. “But why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because…” Anthony worked his jaw, swinging the mallet by his feet to and fro; how to find an adequate answer to assuage his son? “Because Mama and Papa like to?” he offered. When his son continued to stare at him, unamused—the same unamused stare Kate would give him at least a thousand times a day—Anthony knew he had to make a decent deal to the boy. “And…and if you do this for Papa, I’ll buy you a new bike?”</p><p> </p><p>Miraculously the simple bribe satisfied Edmund. The boy nodded. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>He took the Mallet of Death from Anthony’s hands and crawled under the gazebo like a good sport.</p><p> </p><p>“Not too far now,” Anthony ordered, crouching down beside the opening. “Mama still needs to be able to reach it. Just right out of sight.” His son listened to his instruction, the mallet carefully hidden in the shadows but close enough for Kate to reach. Hopefully. “Good work, Ed,” Anthony praised as his son climbed back out.</p><p> </p><p>He dusted off his boy, making sure no dirt was smudged on him. At six in the morning Kate would surely question why their son was a mess and that was the last thing Anthony would want.</p><p> </p><p>Ruffling up Edmund’s hair for good measure, he picked up his son, little arms wrapping around his neck for security. “Let’s go back to the house before Mama and Miles wake up.”</p><p> </p><p>His son giggled as they trekked back down the trail towards the house, the sun rising higher as morning came to full fruition. Edmund awed at the stretch of colors in the sky, fascinated. He clung to Anthony tighter as passed the lake, a little afraid of the rippling water. The plan was to teach him how to swim that summer; a task better said than done. Edmund preferred dry land, while Miles was more than ready to jump into the water. More than once had Anthony and Kate had to jump after their three year old, catching him before he jumped into the swimming pool. After the first two scares, they simply had Miles wear a life-vest whenever they were outside.</p><p> </p><p>His siblings chuckled at the sight of little Miles, toddling about with his puffy life-vest, finding it the most amusing sight. For Anthony and Kate it was another summer day keeping their kids alive.</p><p> </p><p>Summers at Aubrey Hall had become more than a monthly long excursions for his small family. From the end of the school year to a few weeks prior, when he and Kate had to return to school grounds, the Bridgertons spent their summer at the family home. By July rolled around, the rest of his siblings and their families would join in remembrance of Father and to participate in Bridgerton Family Field Day(s)—as in multiple days because as the family grew, so did the games and teams.</p><p> </p><p>As much as Anthony complained about the games spanning over more than one day, he loved the time spent with his family and most of all, he loved besting his wife year after year. Vexing Kate was his favorite past time, the fun of taunting and mocking her during the game growing with each Field Day.</p><p> </p><p>Upon reaching the mudroom door, he set his son back down on his feet, and led him back into the house. Together they quietly entered the kitchen, mindful of Kate and Eloise at the breakfast nook. If they were quiet enough, they’d be able to slip by undetected.</p><p> </p><p>“—you sure this will make me feel better?” Eloise groaned. Her head laid atop the counter, she slumped in half disheveled state.</p><p> </p><p>Standing before his sister, Kate pushed the tea towards her. “Helped me with the nausea with both my boys,” she assured her. “It might help you with the Stirling Spawn.”</p><p> </p><p>“Remind me to never offer to be surrogate for anyone ever again!” Eloise bemoaned, accepting the tea. “Francesca and Michael owe me their lives for carrying their child!”</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps they’ll name the Stirling Spawn after you?”</p><p> </p><p>Eloise scoffed, shakily lifting the cup to her lips. “Doubt it. They’ve already said ‘Janet’ for a girl and ‘John’ for a boy.” Her calculating gray eyes darted to Anthony and Edmund just as they neared the exit, she making direct eye contact with her brother. “<em>Oi!</em> You two devils don’t you dare sneak by like sneaky bastards!”</p><p> </p><p>They were caught with no escape.</p><p> </p><p>“What were you two doing outside?” Kate asked, arms crossed over her chest. “At <em>seven</em> in the morning?” Suspicion shined in her eyes, not going to let their father and son excursion slide by without scrutiny.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony began to open his mouth, hoping the right answer would come to him as it usually did. “You see Kate, Ed and I were—”</p><p> </p><p>“Watching the sunrise,” Edmund declared brightly. “Look at all the pretty colors Mama!” Their son pointed towards the window, oranges blending softly with the hues of morning blues. “Like your pretty pictures!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate melted at the compliment. “Oh Edmund, how kind! Come here my lovie.” She made her way over to the two, picking up Edmund from Anthony’s arms to smother her boy with thousand sweet kisses and cuddles. Their son wrapped his arms around his mama, head resting angelically on her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Once Kate’s back was turned, heading back to Eloise, Edmund’s eyes flashed open.</p><p> </p><p>Both dark eyes squeezed shut, then open. Shut, then open again.</p><p> </p><p>It took two times for Anthony to understand what his boy was trying to do.</p><p> </p><p>Edmund was trying to <em>wink</em>. His evil, little boyish grin was sent his father’s way.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, his son was <em>good</em>. So good! Edmund knew exactly what he was doing. He had his mother eating out of the palm of his hand. Anthony had no idea if he should feel proud of his son for deceiving his mother for the sake of their little pre-Field Day adventure, or mortified at the fact his son was capable of such manipulation at the tender age of five.</p><p> </p><p>All in all, Anthony was thoroughly impressed.</p><p> </p><p>He gave his son a sneaky grin and thumbs up.</p><p> </p><p>And dropped both hands and grin the moment turned back round to face him.</p><p> </p><p>Her suspicious gaze remained well intact, nose wrinkling as she scanned his entire form.</p><p> </p><p>“My god Kate, stare any longer and you might make me blush,” he quipped, ambling over to her.</p><p> </p><p>“You have dirt all over your trousers.” She leaned away from his advances. “And a bit on your face.” Her eyes grew impossibly large. “You hid the mallet outside!” Carrying Edmund on her hip, she reached for the nearest dish towel and swatted Anthony’s arm. “<em>You aren’t supposed to hide it outside you fiend</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony laughed loud and bold at her attacks, skittering away as Kate continued to retaliate while attempting to hold Edmund. Realizing she couldn’t do both effectively, she set their son down on the ground to charge after her husband full force.</p><p> </p><p>Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, Anthony dashed away to his study. “All fair in love and war!” he called out through Kate’s aggravated grumblings.</p><p> </p><p>Just as he was about to enter the study, he spun around to face her, catching his wife before she completely collided with him.</p><p> </p><p>“You are a heathen!” she seethed, thumping on his chest. She was still dressed in pajamas, a flannel bottoms and an old rumbled sweater; she looked beyond divine, sending Anthony’s heart racing. “An absolute heathen and cheat!”</p><p> </p><p>“But is it really Field Day without a <em>little</em> bit of cheating?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate growled and stepped away from him, finger viciously pointed under his chin. “Mark my words Bridgerton, I am going to destroy you!”</p><p> </p><p>“You say that every year,” he shot back, leaning casually against the study door. Yes, he was smug, but how could he not be? His team won four years in a row while hers had yet to achieve such a momentous milestone. “And I’ve yet to be destroyed, my dearest friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not your friend!” Her wild eyes made his grin grow wider. “I’m not your wife! I’m not anything but an enemy who is going to crush you once and for all!”</p><p> </p><p>With one final huff, she pivoted on her heel and marched back to the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, the games had official begun!</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I see you found the mallet,” Anthony taunted, swinging the pink mallet over his shoulder. His red Bridgerton Family Field Day shirt was faded, one from several field day pasts. More specifically from four years prior when the red team—also known as the Bridgerton Blood Team—won the games.</p><p> </p><p>Kate tried to convince him it wasn’t as lucky as he believed it to be, yet for the last few instances he wore the shirt to any Bridgerton game, he won. Her husband was beyond convinced of its luck at this point.</p><p> </p><p>“I did.” Kate swung the Mallet of Death back and forth beside her. “I want to say hiding the mallet under the gazebo was inspired—”</p><p> </p><p>“It was.”</p><p> </p><p>“—but I know you, you sentimental fool,” she spat, mocking disappointed. “I found it relatively fast.” She <em>did</em> have to send their eldest, Edmund, under the gazebo to retrieve it for her after bribing her son with chocolate to tell her where the mallet was hidden. Apparently <em>Papa</em> sent the five year old to do his dirty work with the promise of a new bike.</p><p> </p><p>His scowl deepened. “Maybe you should trying winning this time so I won’t have to hide it again if my hiding spots are so <em>un</em>inspired.”</p><p> </p><p>“My god, they are at it again,” Josie Bagwell-Sharma bemoaned. She blew her referee whistle. “Anthony, Kate—you know the rules. No fraternizing! Or flirting!”</p><p> </p><p>Kate scoffed. “We are not flirting—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s their foreplay,” Michael Stirling, Francesca’s husband and notorious charmer of the family, claimed. He twirled around the red mallet, a relatively new addition to their every growing and replaced and refurbished croquet set. “Let them at it! Makes this all the more interesting, am I not right, Pen?” He nudged his sister-in-law playfully, the ever bashful woman blushing at the attention. “Us in-laws are merely here to witness the true annual battle royal—Anthony vs. Kate!”</p><p> </p><p>The couple in question sent him a steady glare. Normally both were charmed by the man, he arguably one of their favorite in-laws before he even married Francesca (not that Anthony or Kate would ever admit such a stance—they had an image to maintain), but Bridgerton Family Field Day was serious business.</p><p> </p><p>“Michael!” Francesca huffed, sending him a <em>look</em>. A particularly warning look. Her grip on her white mallet tightened. “Do I need to find a way to be on your team just to make sure you don’t cause any trouble, dear?”</p><p> </p><p>He sent her a roguish grin. “Maybe one day we can be on the same team, until then rules are rules, my love.”</p><p> </p><p>The newest to the pack, Gareth, Hyacinth’s newlywed husband had to ask the question everyone absolutely dreaded with every new comer—</p><p> </p><p>“Why can’t you two be on the same team?”</p><p> </p><p>A series of groans came from the field players and those who weren’t participating in croquet. Hyacinth smacked his shoulder, thoroughly annoyed with him. “Why would you ask that—”</p><p> </p><p>“There are three vital rules to Bridgerton Family Field Day,” Anthony began without missing a beat, turning to Gareth. He liked the man, he did. Gareth was better than some of the men his youngest sister could have dated. A good fellow to balance her out. But that didn’t mean he didn’t poke Anthony the wrong way from time to time. Such as now. “Rule One—all Bridgertons, by name and marriage must participate. Children are exempt from this rule until they are of field day age, which we decided last year was sixteen due to the aggressive nature of the games.”</p><p> </p><p>The children allowed to now join the games were the twins, who were split up on different teams. Amanda with the red and Oliver with the blue.</p><p> </p><p>“If you are pregnant you are exempt from this rule.”</p><p> </p><p>He motioned a very pregnant Daphne and Eloise, both who sat with their mother and Mary on the benches. Daphne’s daughters, Amelia and Belinda, sat on the grass beside them, playing tea party and none-the-wiser to commotion surrounding them.</p><p> </p><p>“For the record,” Eloise called out, a hand pressed to her protruding abdomen, “I’d like to play and <em>should</em> be playing as I have listed out the reasons—”</p><p> </p><p>“You are not going to participate in Field Day with my child inside you!” Francesca ordered</p><p> </p><p>“Otherwise you are required to participate. If numbers are off, then we need to pull in an adequate replacement,” Anthony motioned to his sister-in-law, Edwina and then to Ethan’s sister, Posy.</p><p> </p><p>His sister-in-law, now a rather busy Ph.D. candidate, who wore a red BFFD t-shirt, sighed at this rule. She hadn’t been a team member in family field day for years, truth be told, not since the chaotic first year. Without fail she and her wife, Josie, attended and helped ref the games as the teams grew larger with each passing year. They were the only two who knew how to remain impartial and not flinch too terribly when the Bridgertons went at it. However this year she became Daphne’s replacement on the field.</p><p> </p><p>Posy was a surprise addition to the family. One day she tagged along with Ethan to a Bridgerton gathering and had attended all family functions ever since. She was the only family outside of the Bridgertons Ethan kept in contact with, she becoming an honorary member upon Ethan and Ben’s marriage a few years prior. She’d never been keen on participating in the games, happy to cheer on her brother and the rest of the family from the sidelines, however when Eloise agreed to be Francesca and Michael’s surrogate and failed to plan the pregnancy in accordance to Field Day (she’d been <em>that</em> vigilant when it came to her family planning and her dedication to Family Field Day) this gave her the perfect opportunity to play.</p><p> </p><p>“Rule Number Two—” Kate droned, sending her husband an annoyed glance, “cheating will happen and you must accept this. No complaining.”</p><p> </p><p>Gareth frowned. “But isn’t—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t,” Hyacinth stressed, teeth clenched. “Don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“We cheat, all the time,” Kate confessed. “But as they say ‘all’s fair in love and war’.”</p><p> </p><p>Murmurs of agreements waved through the players. This wasn’t anyone’s, besides Gareth’s, first Bridgerton Family Field Day. Each in-law had their own qualms and run ins with a cheating Bridgerton—because yes, it was <em>always</em> a Bridgerton who felt the need to cheat.</p><p> </p><p>“And Rule Number Three,” Anthony said, stare level on Gareth, “arguably the most important rule—partners and spouses cannot be on the same team.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” Gareth asked. “Wouldn’t it be more fun to play <em>with</em> your spouse rather than <em>against</em> them?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate looked appalled at the thought.</p><p> </p><p>A few of the other Bridgerton’s and their spouses fared no better at the question.</p><p> </p><p>“Why on earth would you want to be on the same team as your spouse?” Anthony asked. “Kate and I would kill each other if we were on the same team.”</p><p> </p><p>“We would,” she agreed whole heartedly. “It’s more fun to play against each other! Gives you something to lord over your spouse.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony barked a laugh. “Like you have been able to lord over the champion title these last few years. It’s been me my dear wife—”</p><p> </p><p>“I knew I should have cut up that goddamn shirt when I had the chance.” Her husband’s dropped jaw spurred her further. Grinning evilly she crept closer to Anthony, dead set of putting the fire of competition on his eyes. “Last night when I was folding clothes and you were out with your brothers, I almost did it. The scissors were in my hands. In fact if you check under your right arm you’ll see a small—”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony’s arm flew up, eyes bulging. A small cut on the under cuff of his sleeve glared back at him. “<em>You devil woman</em>!” he cried out, eyes ablaze. “<em>The luck might all be gone now</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, what a shame,” she deadpanned.</p><p> </p><p>Michael leaned over to Gareth. “See? This is the family you have married into. This is what you have been missing out in the States. There is no escape now from their chaos. Valiant effort on your part to prolong the inevitable for as long as possible—”</p><p> </p><p>“Hyacinth and I wanted a long engagement,” Gareth defended quietly. More so everyone wanted Hyacinth to finish university and enjoy her life before she decided to marry her boyfriend she was dead set of spending the rest of her life with. Gareth was wise to follow the family’s wishes. “And I was happy to watch these things from the sidelines, barely paying attention. Now I have to <em>participate</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the rules,” Anthony shot out, still glaring at Kate. “You have to play now that you and Hyacinth are married. No getting around it St. Clair!”</p><p> </p><p>“Who made up these rules?” Gareth asked, more so curious. “Because there is no way these rules have been around for what, six—”</p><p> </p><p>“Ten,” Benedict corrected, slightly bored with the conversation. “This is the tenth anniversary of the resurrected Bridgerton Family Field Day. However this <em>is</em> the first time we have bumped croquet as the first game of the day.”</p><p> </p><p>“We try to shake it up every year,” Colin explained, a little defensive. “Pen, Daff, and I have been organizing the games for years and we don’t want the order to get redundant! Got to keep it fresh and fun!” Benedict groaned at the term ‘fresh and fun’—Colin had taken the dad joke and lingo too seriously, embracing all aspects of fatherhood.</p><p> </p><p>“And to answer your question,” Simon said, twisting the mallet in his hand to and fro, “Anthony made up the rules and any amendments get a vote.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then why hasn’t anyone suggested the amendment of spouses on the same team—”</p><p> </p><p>“Because it simply does not work,” Anthony told him, “we’ve tried once—”</p><p> </p><p>“And Daphne nearly cost us the game,” Eloise gritted out from the bench, “because she and Simon were too concerned with staring deeply into each other’s eyes!” Her sister in question, harumphed and turned up her nose.</p><p> </p><p>“Why not just pull names from a hat?” Gareth suggested.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Kate shook her head. “That leaves too much to chance and we have t-shirts made.”</p><p> </p><p>“New t-shirts every year,” Anthony added, miffed, “but sometimes the t-shirts become lucky and your wife decides to be petty <em>and cut the lucky t-shirt!”</em></p><p> </p><p>“My god Anthony, I did not cut the shirt!” Kate confessed to the heavens. “It got caught on the dryer door last night and tore at bit! I just said that to freak you out.”</p><p> </p><p>His dark scowl formed into a half smile. “If you didn’t cut it…that means the luck is still there.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate rolled her eyes. “Anthony—you are not Samson and I am not Delilah. Me cutting your t-shirt would not take your luckiness away.”</p><p> </p><p>“I beg to differ—”</p><p> </p><p>“Can we get started before you two go any further?” Hyacinth asked, eyes darting between the two. “I’d like to enjoy the rest of games, thank you very much. And actually win instead of talk about winning.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, please!” Colin cried out. “Line up, oldest to youngest! That means you’re up first silver foxes,” he teased his brother and brother-in-law.</p><p> </p><p>Both Simon and Anthony glared at Colin.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a compliment!”</p><p> </p><p>“It sounds like an insult when it comes from you,” Anthony droned, marching up to the starting line. Simon already had his ball set, eyeing the first wicket with an air of determination. “You’re actually trying this time Simon?”</p><p> </p><p>His brother-in-law smirked. A <em>smug</em> smirk, one to get under the skin. “Yes. I am.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony clucked his tongue. “What did Kate promise you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your wife may have promised to buy three full rounds of drinks at the next Non-Bridgerton Night.” Simon practiced his swing, adjusting his grip on the mallet. “But only if we win.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not serious.” His wife wouldn’t dare make a promise she would not follow through on.</p><p> </p><p>Simon smacked his ball, it soaring right through the first wicket with ease. “Deadly serious. I like free drinks.”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony stared at the orange ball’s landing, gob-smacked. “That woman is going to be the death of me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t she already?” Simon called over his shoulder, going after his ball.</p><p> </p><p>Scowling Anthony prepared for his shot.</p><p> </p><p>Looking up, he spotted Kate watching him. Dark, sinister eyes ready to swoop in for the kill. His wife meant business and she wasn’t going to back down until she won.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t throw out your back, love!” Kate shouted from beside Gareth.</p><p> </p><p>His head shot up, Anthony fuming. “Shut the fuck up!”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony!” Daphne cried out from the benches. “Innocent ears are around!”</p><p> </p><p>“Then tell Kate to shut up!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not going to tell your wife to shut up—”</p><p> </p><p>“Take the damn shot already!” Colin cried out. “We haven’t got all afternoon!”</p><p> </p><p>Huffing and puffing Anthony attempted to regain his cool. Kate was being a menace. She’s always a menace; he should be able to block her out. Focus on the ball and smack it through the wicket. Easy-peasy. A simple, simple…</p><p> </p><p>“Take the shot already! You’re not going to get better the longer you stare at it!”</p><p> </p><p>But damn it, Kate drove him mad! “<em>Can you let me take my turn in peace, woman</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>In his haste to yell at Kate, his arms jerked, the mallet tapping the ball…</p><p> </p><p>The bloody thing only moved an inch.</p><p> </p><p>“That doesn’t count!” he furiously declared. “It doesn’t! She distracted me—”</p><p> </p><p>“It counts!” Kate shot back. “Ref, tell him it counts!”</p><p> </p><p>She began to hurry to Josie, Anthony quick to follow. “Josie don’t you dare! You know what she did was <em>illegal</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Their sister-in-law’s dispassionate disposition did not falter at their grumblings and outcries. Josie maintained a stoic air, this not her first rodeo, nor her last. “You tapped the ball, Anthony. It counts.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn,” he cursed.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Kate leapt back to action, waving out to her team in glee. “We’re off to a great start Non-Bridgertons!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony pointed his mallet at Josie. “Remember who’s home you’re staying in—”</p><p> </p><p>“Kate’s,” Josie answered, unflinching. “I’m staying in Kate’s.”</p><p> </p><p>Biting his lips together, Anthony nodded once. “That’s how it’s going to be, then?”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you expect a different response?”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose not.” Nostrils flaring, he marched out back to his ball as Kate prepared for her swing.</p><p> </p><p>She lifted her mallet and took a hard swing.</p><p> </p><p>The black ball flew through the air, missed the wicket, and rolled somewhere between the second and third.</p><p> </p><p>A series of groans sounded from the Non-Bridgertons.</p><p> </p><p>“Karma at it’s finest, wife,” he tutted in passing.</p><p> </p><p>Her glare was enough to chill the hottest of summers. Anthony sighed happily; justice would be served in due time.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Mud.</p><p> </p><p>Kate should have realized her epic downfall in the croquet match would not be her husband, but rather the damn elements of the earth.</p><p> </p><p>And the fact Colin had set the course. He would lead the course down towards the hill where the mud was the worst due to the previous day’s light storm.</p><p> </p><p>After a few bad turns, Kate got her groove back, making good pace on the course.</p><p> </p><p>Then Edwina had to knock Kate’s ball down the hill and into the mud. The only positive to her near-veered of course was how well the rest of her team performed in the game. Simon was sure to take the win, followed closely by Michael. With those two ahead, Anthony trailed close behind in third.</p><p> </p><p>That in of itself was a victory. Her husband losing to his two best friends was the type of redemption story she longed for her rag-tag group of Non-Bridgertons!</p><p> </p><p>A cry of “<em>Heads!” </em>came from up the hill.</p><p> </p><p>Kate dropped to the ground, arms shielding her head.</p><p> </p><p>The pink ball whirled through the air—</p><p> </p><p><em>Splat</em>!</p><p> </p><p>—and plopped into the mud beside her black ball.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Bloody hell</em>!” Her husband’s familiar roar traveled down the hill. Stomps pounded on the lawn, his mess of gray and chestnut hair shining in the mid-day sun. She hated how handsome and debonair he looked in the throws of sport and competition.</p><p> </p><p>“Foiled by mud,” Kate said at his flustered, sour faced arrival. “I vote this is the last we allow Colin to set the course.”</p><p> </p><p>“I second that vote,” Anthony grumbled, crouching down beside their kissing croquet balls. He tsked, eyes roving over their unfortunate predicament. They were at the bottom of the hill, stuck in the literal mud, while the rest of the course was <em>up</em> the hill.</p><p> </p><p>A miracle needed to manifest in order for either of them to ever make it back into the game. Miracles were known to occur many a time at Bridgerton Family Field Day, however Kate had a feeling they used their fair share over the years.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s face it, we lost,” Kate announced, crouching down to take seat on a patch of non-damp grass. “Majorly.”</p><p> </p><p>Naturally, Anthony did not accept this fate. “When it’s your turn, hit your ball out of the mud, but not up the hill. Once it’s my turn again, I’ll swing hard enough to hit yours and hopefully get it back up the hill and into the game.”</p><p> </p><p>Tilting her head side to side, she considered the plan.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony had the best swing out of anyone in the games, better than his younger brothers and brother-in-laws. If anyone could get a muddy ball up the hill with one swing, it’d be him. Except if he was hitting her ball…</p><p> </p><p>“What about you?” Kate asked. “Your ball won’t make it up.”</p><p> </p><p>Her husband gave a half shrug. “My team is not going to win anyways,” he drawled out, hoping to sound nonchalant. “And as much as I’d like to gloat a win in your face, it’s kind of dull if we both lose…”</p><p> </p><p>A gasp escaped her, Kate’s jaw dropping. Hand pressed to her heart, she fluttered her eyelashes in a flourish. “Anthony—are you—are you <em>sacrificing</em> you potential high score for me? <em>Your measly wife</em>?” Anthony’s bemused frowned spurned her, another dramatic gasp falling from her lips. “You are willing to fraternize with the enemy, my husband? To help the opposing team? My word!”</p><p> </p><p>“Your turn is coming up,” he ground out, “are you going to do what I said? Because I’m not going to repeat myself.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate climbed up to her feet.</p><p> </p><p>As she set up for her swing, she turned to Anthony and kissed him soundly on the lips. “You know what? I think you have finally proved your use. I shall keep you.” She patted his face for good measure.</p><p> </p><p>“So glad to know after ten years of marriage you have now decided I am worthy to keep,” he droned.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course dear,” Kate coyly grinned up at him, “did you not know the last ten years were a trial period? All this time, could have cut you loose, but I didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just take your damn turn, Kate!”</p><p> </p><p>Not needing to be told twice, she did just that.</p><p> </p><p>Only to miscalculate the force of her swing and slip in the mud.</p><p> </p><p>Face first.</p><p> </p><p>Her ball didn’t even travel out of the mud either. Just a pathetic nudge in the opposite direction.</p><p> </p><p>She felt Anthony crouch down beside her, humming in deep disappointment. He did not bother to help her to her feet, in fact pushing more mud her way with end of his pink mallet. Like an attempt to bury her in the mud in the same manner one would do on the beach with sand. “Well, that’s the last time I ever offer to make an alliance with <em>you</em>. My sacrifice of a win could have been seen as a grand romantic gesture—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Get the hell out of my face</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>He barked a laugh.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In the end, Simon—for the first time in Bridgerton Family Field Day history—won the croquet match. At his sudden interest and desire to excel in the games, he merely answered, “I like my alcohol. I like it even more when a Bridgerton is paying for it.”</p><p> </p><p>The Bridgerton implied, was of course, Kate.</p><p> </p><p>Kate who had excused herself upstairs to wash up. The next set of games would not take place until after lunch, leaving a couple of hours for the family to winddown and prep for the next games, as well as clean themselves up from the slightly muddy course.</p><p> </p><p>Once assured his children were being watched by one of his capable siblings, Anthony followed after Kate, never too far from his wife.</p><p> </p><p>Entering their bedroom, he heard the ensuite sink running. “Kate,” he called out, nudging open the bathroom door, “is the mud coming off?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course it’s coming off!” She scrubbed furiously at her face and neck, the wash cloth smeared with mud. The cloth was shoved back under the faucet, dirt sinking down the drain. “It’s just mud. I’ll survive.”</p><p> </p><p>Watching her, Anthony leaned against the doorframe. Their eyes connected in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. “What?” she asked. “You have that look on your face.”</p><p> </p><p>“What look?” he grumbled back, lips ticking up in a smirk.</p><p> </p><p>“The ‘I’m going to make a big decision I might regret’ look.” Kate tossed aside the dirty wash cloth and grabbed another from the linen closest behind her. Shutting the thin wooden doors, she tilted her head towards him. “What’s on your mind?”</p><p> </p><p>“What if we were on the same team?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Excuse me</em>?” Her eyes widened. A cool palm flew up to his forehead. “Husband, are you feeling well? Are you feverish?”</p><p> </p><p>He swatted her hand away. “No—I was just thinking.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thinking?” she pressed. “About the teams?”</p><p> </p><p>“How we’d be a unstoppable if we were on the same team,” he answered. While he enjoyed besting his wife and his in-laws, he may have been missing out on an uncharted opportunity His eyes darted to her dark curls. “You have mud in your hair.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate cursed under her breath. Rolling her eyes and mumbling under her breath, she turned back to the mirror, spotting the mud with her own eyes. With an awkward crane of her neck, she stuck the muddy curls under the muddy faucet.</p><p> </p><p>Taking pity on his wife, Anthony came to her aid. Gently he massaged the muddy out of her hair, able to see more of the damage from above.</p><p> </p><p>“So you’d break tradition?” Kate tried to peer up at him, but the angle was terrible. Water splashed up in her face.</p><p> </p><p>“While I am a traditionalist in the matters of Field Day…” He examined her hair; no more mud, only sopping wet curls. Picking up the clean hand towel hanging beside him, he began to dry her hair. “I understand we may be out numbered.”</p><p> </p><p>“We?”</p><p> </p><p>“Bridgertons.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see.” Kate stood up right, towel on her head, and his hands busying themselves with drying her off. “So you have finally realized you have more in-laws than you count?”</p><p> </p><p>“It makes keeping teams purely Bridgerton and <em>Non-</em>Bridgerton,” he scoffed a little at the name her team declared almost a decade prior, “difficult. Then there are all the kids to think about, once they reach field game age…” He chewed his lips together, giving the dilemma deep thought. He gave more brain cells towards Bridgerton Family Field Day than he did at his day job; once again Kate pitied the teenagers who had him for their literature courses. “Then there’d be more Bridgertons, but ages are all over the place. I honestly don’t have much choice on the matter, but to make this the last Bridgerton Field Day with our current teams.”</p><p> </p><p>Her husband wasn’t one to admit defeat. Anthony relished in being right, the best, and a winner in all activities. His absurd level of competitiveness and eldest sibling syndrome made it impossible for him to accept losses. Kate was no better, too stubborn and rooted in her own petty, aggressive ambition.</p><p> </p><p>Two peas in a pod, as his mother would say.</p><p> </p><p>(They were—Kate and Anthony, Anthony and Kate—one could not find one half of the pair far from the other. Their family even joked he switched careers so he could take a short walk across campus and bother her to his content because he simply could not function without her.)</p><p> </p><p>So for him to confide in abolishing the most coveted rule of Bridgerton Family Field Day…well, Kate knew it must have been a struggle for him.</p><p> </p><p>“When are we going to put the amendment up to vote?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“After the games.” He plucked the towel off her head. “In the meant time, let’s enjoy the time we have as foes.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Was it really Bridgerton Family Field Day if someone didn’t end up in the hospital?</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” Michael insisted. However the his arm bent at the elbow in an unnatural direction said otherwise. “Just a broken arm—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Just</em> a broken arm?” Francesca gritted out. She whirled on Colin, who’d tackled Michael in a rather vigorous game of sack-racing. “I’m going to kill you!”</p><p> </p><p>Anthony leapt into action, catching Francesca before she could throw fists at their older brother. “Franny!”</p><p> </p><p>She elbowed him hard in the gut, Anthony’s grip on her slipping for a half second. Luckily, Gregory joined him in holding their sister back, Francesca far more agile than they gave her credit. She was the more athletic sibling in the family these days; Anthony believed it was due to all her hiking and cycling, he joining her on an excursion or two a year.</p><p> </p><p>Benedict and Penelope were quick to push Colin away from Francesca and the mildly gruesome scene, while Mary—godsend of a mother-in-law—examined Michael and Kate called the local hospital.</p><p> </p><p>Despite their best efforts to remain calm, chaos ensued.</p><p> </p><p>“I told you not to do the sack race!”</p><p> </p><p>“Franny, I am the fastest man on the team—who else would go against Colin?”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you gotten ahold of the hospital, Kate?” Simon asked, his concern rising to the level of the group.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m trying! Reception is shotty—Anthony, I told you we needed to look into maintaining a tower on the property—”</p><p> </p><p>He was more than appalled by the question; they’d gone on a round-about on the argument for the last five years. “And allow those corporate vultures on <em>my estate? </em>Yeah, I’ll do that when hell freezes over!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Don’t touch it</em>!” Mary cried out, shooing all the gathering Bridgertons away from her impromptu patient.</p><p> </p><p>“God, I’m going to be sick!” Eloise crowed out, fanning herself. “I thought the nausea was supposed to go away when you reached the third trimester!” Carefully easing herself up, Eloise groaned—</p><p> </p><p>Daphne’s loud gasp eclipsed her.</p><p> </p><p>“Eloise—I think your water broke!”</p><p> </p><p>The younger sister scoffed. “I think I’d feel—” A low, groan interrupted her, Eloise glancing down at her wet legs. “Shit, my water broke.”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca leapt away from Anthony and Gregory, dashing to Eloise’s side. “My baby’s coming!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Our baby’s coming</em>?” Michael cried out, only to wince in pain. “Fuck—the baby’s coming and I have a broken arm and how can I be there for my baby when I have broken arm—”</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe,” Anthony ordered, taking control over the situation. “You focus on breathing Michael. Kate get off the phone, we aren’t going to get ahold of the hospital out here.” He pointed waved and Colin and Benedict. “Tweddle-dee and Tweedledum, go get a car for El and Fran and one for Michael—we haven’t got all day!”</p><p> </p><p>The brother’s broke off in hurry, following Anthony’s orders. At the benches, Francesca and Phillip were trying to calm Eloise down, who went into hyper-shock mode. “What if I can’t push them out?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve gone to all the birthing classes,” Francesca assured her. “You did great. We’ll be fine. You got this.”</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, the rest of family hurried to clean up the mess of Field Day and usher the children back inside the house. Bodies were running everywhere, bumping into each other and avoiding Michael and Eloise like a plague. Soon both Michael and Eloise were packed up in separate cars—them both in one vehicle would cause too much stress for everyone involved.</p><p> </p><p>Colin grinned up at Anthony from the driver’s seat. “I’ll make sure Michael is back in tip-top shape—”</p><p> </p><p>“No you won’t,” Kate announced, climbing into the passenger seat. Michael was in the back, withering in pain and counting backwards from one hundred. “You are just the chauffer for tonight since you were the one who broke his arm. I’ll make sure he’s back in tip-top shape and gets to hopefully see the birth of his child.” Peeking her head out the rolled down window, she gave Anthony a strained smile. “I’ll see you in a hour or two, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, grinning down at her. “Yeah—by the way, have I mentioned how hot it is when you take control?”</p><p> </p><p>Her smile turned sultry at a flip of switch, Kate looking up at him through her lashes. “Have I mentioned how hot it is when <em>you</em> take control—”</p><p> </p><p>“Ew, mum and dad, no, please not when I am back here crying over a broken arm,” Michael protested from the backseat.</p><p> </p><p>The husband and wife shared an unamused glance. “Drive safe and text me when you get there,” he ordered the three, stepping away from the car without further instruction. Once Colin and his party drove off, Benedict drove forward in the round-about.</p><p> </p><p>“If it was anyone but El, I would tear your head off for making me use my car,” Benedict announced as his car window rolled down. “But I have to make sure little sis gets to the hospital in time to have our other little sister’s baby.” He paused, frowning in bafflement. “That sounded odder than I intended.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, the situation is as odd as it sounds, nothing on your part,” Anthony assured him.</p><p> </p><p>Both brothers watched as their sisters and Phillip carefully climbed down the front steps of Aubrey Hall towards the car. His brother-in-laws arms were laden with serval bags—Eloise’s hospital bag and two other overnight bags—and he held Eloise’s right hand, the woman squeezing the life out of him.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was quick to open the backseat door for them, Eloise climbing in and Francesca following after. Phillip rounded to drop the bags in the trunk and then tucking away into the passenger seat.</p><p> </p><p>Just as Anthony was about to close the backseat door, Francesca stopped him.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to be there right?” she asked, voice small. Nervous, afraid, and maybe excited—all mixed together in one.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise popped her head beside Franny, sharing the same panicked expression. Perspiration speckled her forehead, her chestnut bangs sticking to her forehead. “You’re following aren’t you?” she demanded. “Because you gotta—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Anthony said, quelling their nerves. Both women sighed in relief, less scared. “Yes. I’ll be there. With Mother. We’ll be following. We’re not going to miss meeting Baby Stirling.”</p><p> </p><p>Francesca’s mouth twitched while Eloise full on beamed. “Thank you,” the younger of the two said. “I’ll see you later then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he said, more confident. “You will.”</p><p> </p><p>He shut the door after them, Benedict taking off without any other prompting.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony had no intention of going to hospital. He hadn’t been there for the birth of several of his niece and nephews, not since little Kat, Gregory and Lucy’s eldest. Hospitals did not like large, immediate families of twenty plus individuals taking up their waiting rooms.</p><p> </p><p>But this was different. This was Baby Stirling.</p><p> </p><p>The baby Francesca and Michael desired for years.</p><p> </p><p>Eloise was birthing the child and to top it all off, Michael broke his arm.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony had no choice, but to go. Simple as that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Janet Eloise Stirling was a sight to behold.</p><p> </p><p>Chestnut hair, button nose, and the sweetest little yawn. While one could not decipher the characteristics a newborn received from their parents, with one look at the girl, the world knew she was Bridgerton through and through.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony and Kate were the first family, outside the parents and surrogate’s spouse, allowed into the room after the birth. Mother had gone back to Aubrey Hall when labor when into the wee hours of the night, promising to check-in on the boys for them. Helen, Michael’s mother, promised to make the trip the following day, once all the commotion had died down.</p><p> </p><p>Francesca carefully placed little Janet in his arms, the newborn swaddled to perfection.</p><p> </p><p>“Say ‘hi’ to your Uncle Anthony, Jan” she cooed softly to her daughter. “He’s the best big brother I could ever ask for. He’ll love you lots.”</p><p> </p><p>Kate leaned into his shoulder, staring down at the baby with awe and wonder. He almost laughed at her; she had her own children, plenty of nephews and nieces, yet for some reason she melted at the sight of Janet.</p><p> </p><p>“I want another,” Kate whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “I think I want us to try for a girl.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes slid away from Janet, to Kate’s wide, hopeful eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“A girl would be nice,” he confessed. He loved his boys dearly, but he did want a daughter, ever since he could help care for his younger sisters. “I always did want three to four children—”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re getting three and that’s final,” she hissed playful at him.</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled softly, pressing a feather kiss to his wife’s temple.</p><p> </p><p>The Tenth Annual Bridgerton Family Field Day never finished. A winner was never declared. In their group photo of year, the header was marked with an asterisk—<em>games canceled due to a birth</em>. Oddly enough, the asterisk would be used at least three more times in the next ten years.</p><p> </p><p>Furthermore, that year had been the end of the near decade battle of Bridgertons vs. Non-Bridgertons. Anthony and Kate always made sure to rig the name drawings to be on each other’s teams moving forward.</p><p> </p><p>Besides, winning was a tad sweeter when he had his dearest friend and wife by his side to taunt at his siblings.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We end on a happy note! </p><p>Francesca and Michael have a baby! All the Bridgertons are parents and married! Kate and Anthony are still as ridiculous and competitive as ever! Did anyone catch Anthony switched careers? 👀 More on that in a future fic :) </p><p>Anyways...</p><p>Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.</p><p>Thank you for reading and loving these character just as much, if not more than, me. Thank you for accepting this universe and all their antics with open arms. Thank you for commenting, sharing all your wonderful reactions, thoughts, and opinions on all things Bridgerton and this universe! We've been though some major moments (SA casting! RJP departure!) in fandom together during this fic! A lot of us caught up on reading the books during this fic! This has been the best experience ever, to fall more in love with Bridgerton week after week with all of you!</p><p>'Couldn't Say It To Myself' will always hold a special place in heart. For over a year I've been in a creative rut, unable to complete creative projects (fanfic and original pieces) and this story helped me find my groove again. This is the first story I've completed in over a year, which still boggles my mind! So thank you all for your love, support, and encouraging words--it has meant the world to me, more than I can ever express in written word ❤❤❤</p><p>So here is to more adventures for these characters! And holding out and  passing the time until season 2! :D</p><p>*SEQUEL 'LEAVE THE LIGHT ON' WILL BE POSTED THE WEEKEND OF APRIL 23RD*  be on the look out for it!</p><p>Remember to subscribe to me as an author, or follow me on my socials (tumblr: intp-slytherin97 and twitter: @intpslytherin97) to be up to date on fics and whatnot! </p><p>Love y'all, bye for now!</p>
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